Mentor
by Demeter1973
Summary: I always wondered how Barney and Dr. Lecter established their rapport . . . let’s explore that, shall we? After some debate over the rating interpretation, as of Chapter 10, it's a little more mature in terms of content. How about T-plus? Fair warning.
1. Chapter 1

I always wondered how Barney and Dr. Lecter established their rapport . . . let's explore that, shall we?

Chapter 1 – Interview

July 5, 1977

Barney Jackson sits across from the greasy man, his desk lined with stacks of journals. One is open, with highlighted passages and notes in the margin. The remainder appear to be covered with a thick sheen of dust, most likely from building maintenance down to corridor for asbestos removal. Budget limitations require one to prioritize, and the upper levels were priority number one as far as Dr. Chilton was concerned. Those areas visible to visitors, administrative offices, the main cafeteria, all get priority. The other levels would have to wait. It wasn't as if their occupants were leaving anytime soon, and a dearth of family or public concern meant that funds for renovation of the lower levels could be very properly re-prioritized. The remainder of the office is typical and bland, to Barney's eyes, anyway. Framed degrees and certifications line the walls. Bookcase filled with tomes that hold no particular interest for Barney, and maybe not for his soon-to-be employer.

"Mr. Jackson, is it?"

"Yes."

Frederick Chilton regards the large black man sitting tall and still in the chair across from him. Muscle is easy, cheap. What he needs is something a little more. Could use a deeper voice, but you have to take what comes along. Good help is truly hard to find. "I see that you served our great nation in the military?"

"Yes, Marine Corps."

"Did you see any service in Viet Nam? I'm working on a study for the DOD, stress in veterans. Very groundbreaking. It could be particularly useful in helping the men in service. We in the field propose to call it post-traumatic stress disorder," emphasis on each syllable, "but I believe your fellow servicemen know it as shell shock?" Chilton uses his lecturer's tone, reading the blank stare of Barney's disinterest as lack of understanding.

"I was there at the tail end, mostly worked on land clearing."

"So you didn't see any combat atrocities? You weren't in My Lai?" A glint of anticipation as he glances at the stack of journals.

"No, that was the Army, and before my time." Barney fights to keep a small touch of amusement from taking over his massive features. Dr. Chilton had obviously never been near a base, battle, or barracks, and knew his military history from Schaffner.

"I see." He rises and leans over the desk, as it adds height. Taller than Barney now, he glances at the application below him. "Let me be frank, level with you," he smiles, enjoying being able to 'get down' with the younger man in front of him, "your military service aside, I want to make sure that we're clear on your external activities remaining external. Your arrest made an impression, I would imagine?"

"Let me be _earnest_ with you, Dr. Chilton," Barney maintains a flat affect, no signs of anger or any other emotion apparent in his wide set eyes, "I quit the Panthers and I don't mix politics or personal with business." The stone cold demeanor made a greater impression on the white doctor than any aggression would.

"Well then, Barney, if I may," Chilton smiles again, his man-to-man smile that he uses to work the staff, "I think we both have a fantastic opportunity here. I could use a man like you, a man with discipline and, not to put to fine a point on it, strength, to maintain order around here." A pause, "Don't misunderstand, now. We are a compassionate institution, we are very humane, and we wish to understand the mind and psyche, we want to heal" _A lot of 'we' in there_. "The poor souls in the Violent Ward are irretrievable, but we don't want to forget their humanity." His speech, well rehearsed, build up complete, "We just need to maintain _order_. Order is key. Order requires respect for authority, respect for hierarchy, rank, respect for consequences."

Barney continues to stare in silence.

"It is normally quiet. You'll have your regular duties. Supervising patient cell clean-up, mail delivery – you won't do that, of course, but be on hand to make sure it goes smoothly," a paternal smile, "You will have plenty of time to study after lights-out. Are you at all interested in psychology? You know, more inclusion is encouraged these days, Affirmative Action I believe it's called. I could put in a good word at the Community School, if you keep my ship running tight." _Is he talking about the navy? Dumbass._

"Right now I just want a general degree. Maybe liberal arts –"

Arched eyebrows speak volumes, "Well now, I'm not so sure philosophy would be your _thing_."

"Why not?"

"Well, it just doesn't seem very practical."

Let's get it straight now. "I'm big, but I'm not dumb, Dr. Chilton."

"Then you should be able to remember the rules for our little tour of your workstation. All violent offenders are off limits physically unless restrained. That's where you come in. No touching the bars, no hard or metal objects through the bars – I think you ought to be able to remember that, right Barney?" No reaction, "Our lead orderly will brief you on the rest of the physical procedures. Do well and keep order for me, and you'll advance quickly and have more time to work on your education. Now let's go downstairs and meet your patients."

Dr. Chilton walks in front, glancing over his shoulder at the massive man in his cheap interview suit. He is positively beaming as they pass through the gates and down to the Violent Ward. Dr. Chilton acknowledges none of the staff as they move, continuing his briefing and pausing for unprompted clarification. The photo of the unfortunate nurse followed. Barney, having seen combat, is unmoved. Chilton interprets tough, and is pleased.

They walk quickly through the men's unit, moving past the largely unresponsive to unruly occupants. Dr. Chilton stops short of the last cell on the right and turns to Barney.

"Now Mr. Jackson, most of our guests don't speak regularly, nothing coherent at any rate. You'll find that our prize subject is no exception, but make no mistake regarding Hannibal Lecter. He is to be treated with extreme caution, but don't let him forget who is in charge. He is quite clever, brilliant really. It is so unfortunate that such a brilliant man could be reduced to such circumstances due to a mind weakened by insanity. Such a shame that we haven't been able to _study_ him, _help_ him understand himself for the greater good of the field. But he refuses to cooperate."

Ending his musing, Dr. Chilton adds as they move to stand before the cell, nylon netting stretching behind the bars, "At least you can help us see that he cooperates with operational procedures. Barney Jackson, meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

Dr. Lecter is supine on his cot, eyes closed. He waits a few minutes before opening them to gaze at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. On the table bolted to the middle of the cell floor sit four stacks of neatly arranged papers and books, a partially completed sketch in the center. Dr. Lecter's cell resembles a gallery at the moment, filled with images that register no significance in Barney's limited experience. They are beautiful, stunning even, for the crude materials of butcher paper and crayon, felt pen and marker, but the charcoal images are most striking. Barney would like to study them more, but now is time for introductions and negotiations.

"Now Hannibal, is that any way to behave toward a new member of our little family?" Chilton beams, but the smile does not reach his eyes. "You know, Barney, I do believe that Dr. Lecter is a bit petulant today. Perhaps if we hold his mail for now . . ." no response from the lithe man reclining, "for a while." Barney notes the small man's frame, his hands folded over one another across his chest, pale skin, even for a white man. He won't notice the extra digit on Dr. Lecter's hand for a few days.

"Dr. Chilton," Barney begins, his gravely voice casting an eerie echo from the catacombs of the Violent Ward, "maybe I could hang around for a while, get the lay of the land. See if I can get to know the patients without having them feel like they are under glass." He thinks, brow creasing, "You know, maybe they are a little scared when the big guy shows up. Think they are being tested."

Dr. Chilton does not hide his irritation. He really wants Lecter to see his new pit bull. "Make yourself at home Barney. Alonzo will buzz you out. You can start tomorrow at 5:30, evening shift. I'll see you Tuesday for your first evaluation." Chilton turns on his heel and leaves, not another word or glance to Barney.

Barney steps away from Dr. Lecter's cell for the moment, moving back along the corridor, keeping center and keeping guard. The patients closest to Dr. Lecter are sleeping, snores and grunts fill the air stale with the aromas of sweat, stale food, urine, feces, and other bodily fluids best not to dwell upon. An older black man keeps watch near the gates, he looks as though he is partially blind. He smells like stale onions. "Who there? 'lonzo? I need a drank. 'lonzo?"

Barney doesn't answer. He sees a rusty sink at the far end of the hallway and moves, searching the unlocked closet for cups. He fills a small plastic cup with water, clear but smelling slightly of sulfur, and brings it to the man's cell. "My name is Barney Jackson. I'm new 'round here. What's your name?" Barney places the cup in the sliding food carrier and with surprisingly gentle care, pushes it toward the old man. "Boy, don't you know me? Don't you know when da prophet 'lijah talkin' to you?"

"You don't look like the honorable Elijah Muhammed, mister," Barney chuckles, "here drink your water and give me back the cup."

"I ain't no damned son of Ishmael, fool! He throws the water in the direction of Barney's voice, up on his feet and at the bars, "_As da LORD, da God o Israel, liveth, before whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but accordin' to my word!_" He screamed, now, stirring some of the other patients with stuporous stares.

Barney picked up the cup and thought back, Big Mamma reading the Word on Sunday, reaching out and swatting little fidgety brown faces when they giggled or strayed. He walked back to the closet and grabbed a few towels, and then filled the cup again. As he walked back, he spoke "_So he arose and went to Zarephath; and when he came to the gate of the city, behold, a widow was there gathering sticks; and he called to her, and said: 'Fetch me, I pray thee, a little water in a vessel, that I may drink.'_" He placed the cup back in the food tray and slid it toward the man. He took it to his lips and drank, setting it back in the carrier and then sat back down, drool and water running down his beard.

Barney cleaned up the water, using the extra towels to blot his suit jacket. He took the cup back and continued walking. The formerly sleeping patients were back out, except on who was engaging in a vigorous round of self-stimulation. Good, no one's upset. Calm is good. He walked slowly back to the last cell, eyes moving with patience over the drawings, the occupant apparently not having stirred during the outburst. He regarded the cell, the man, the drawings. One in particular caught his attention, a man, white of course, sitting upright on some kind of bed, his left hand aloft and finger pointing high, surrounded by other white men in robes. He looked for a while, the detail was incredible, looked like one of those old paintings Barney had seen in the Baltimore Museum of Art when he came back after the war. There was just something about it. Remembering himself, he looked back down at the monster, Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal the Cannibal, and found he was surprised the man wasn't bigger. For a man like Barney, size was equated with power, as he himself was assumed to be big, bad ass, and dumb. Looks can be deceiving. He would introduce himself later, when Dr. Lecter was ready.

As the heavy footfalls subsided down the corridor, Dr. Lecter's eyes found his rendering of the Death of Socrates, maroon orbs fixed as he mused on the scents, sounds, and conversations that he had naturally followed. His thoughts impenetrable from the outside, he internally mused. _Welcome Barney, the interview's over_.

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Passages from Scripture, I Kings 17:1 and 17:10


	2. Chapter 2

Loooooooooooooooooooong Chapter, I know, but please bear with me! Gotta get the set up before school's in. It will be worth it, I promise! Enjoy Alonzo!

Chapter 2 – Day 1

Barnaby James Jackson began his first day as Junior Orderly for the Violent Ward of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane at 5:30 PM July 6, 1977. Night shifts would be frequent, occasional days coming later with seniority. After reporting to what passes as the personnel department, he found that none of the standard issue uniforms were large enough for him, so he would have to make due with his own clothing until scrubs could be found. He only owned one suit, and wanted to keep this one in good condition should he need to pound the pavement again for a new job. People see big, black, militant and doors close, even for shit jobs like this. He could make a lot more as a cooler downtown, but that wouldn't leave him much time for study. He would make it work somehow. Loonies behind bars would be easier than drunks and dope fiends. This is what Barney believed on his first day.

Alonzo Jones, Senior Orderly of 'The Shit Hold,' took Barney through procedures, chief advice being to hold onto his nuts at all times and learn to dodge jizz, shit, snot, piss, and any other gooey mass that might be used as a projectile. "And do somethin' 'bout that voice, bro. These crazies don't respect no man sound that queer." One look from Barney halted that particular train of thought. The other staffers on the Violent Ward included Jimmy Bates and Jimmy Louis, the twin Jims pausing from their card game long enough to snort something resembling hello. These were the regulars, Alonzo told him. All other staff, like kitchen and cleaning, only ever came down accompanied by one of the regulars.

Barney would supervise clean-up today, getting three of the patients into restraints 'easy or hard' before the cleaners arrived to work. He would then search the cells for contraband items and supervise getting the patients out of restraints. Didn't make sense to Barney to have clean up so late, but Alonzo explained that the upper levels got first priority, and more frequent cleanings anyway. "'Sides, you don't wanna be cleanin' up until _after_ dinner. Animals, man, I tell you these dudes are A-N-I-M-A-L-S. Don't worry about rough, man," Alonzo confided, "Nobody comes callin' on these, 'cept Chilton and other docs and trainin' docs, they don't care. Dr. Lecter gets some others sometimes. Man, wait 'til one of them fools show up! That shit is hilarious! Oh yeah, you gonna earn your pay today my man," Alonzo laughs, "You gotta get Dr. _Lecter_ in restraints. That cat is spooky, man, red eyes and all. You see how he bites?"

"Yeah, I saw the picture. Chilton show it to everyone?"

"Shit, you know he gets off on that, man. Yeah, he show it to everyone, even the nurses upstairs. No wonder he can't get no ass." Alonzo would appear to be an expert in scatology, had Barney understood the term at the time.

"What's his deal, man? Tried to get me to talk shit about Nam, talking about some damned study or something."

Alonzo, apparently eager to build some work-place rapport, glanced sideways and then started low, "See, he wants to be a honcho, thinks some such head shit study gonna get him in tight with the dudes print them books all over his office."

"Yeah, I saw those. Journals, they're called journals."

Mistrustful glance, "Hey man, you not down here to snitch? Don't be playin' now. Journals, huh? Shiiiiiiiit, just some bullshit nobody but skinny white dudes in glasses read. Anyhow, Chilton don't wanna stay here. Thinks he get a big study on one of these nuts get him outta here. It's his ticket, man. But he can't get no one to pay no never mind. No, sir! You do NOT wanna be here when he gets them letters, HELL no. He gets all red, throwing out them big shrink words, mostly gets pissed at Dr. Lecter."

"Why's that? And how come he's _Dr. Lecter_, when Dr. Chilton is just Chilton?"

Alonzo, quite the chatty-Cathy when you got him going, "See, Dr. Lecter, HE'S a honcho." Nods solemnly.

"You mean he was. Can't be a honcho when you're in the clink."

Clearly, Barney needs some initiation, and Alonzo can't wait, "No, man, no shit! He gets more them letters, _good_ letters, in six months than Chilton get in years. He's righteous pissed that them white coat white dudes listen to a little man in lockup more than they do to his zoo keeper." Alonzo laughing, "I mean, a lotta those honchos just pass up Chilton to come and talk, well_ try_ anyway, to talk to Dr. Lecter. He don't say much, though, but on a really good day you get to see one of them runnin' out like they fixin' to mess they drawers!" Practically rolling, now, Alonzo clearly has no problem with entertainment.

"They still want to talk to a man who eats folks?"

"Yeah, Chilton says it's just so they can say they got a nod from the freak. He's still 'high profile.' That's what Chilton says. Just want to shock the other docs."

"What do you think?" Barney cringes a little, not sure he should use 'think' when addressing his new floor supervisor.

Serious face, now, "Shit, I don't know. Just watch that cat, you know. He may be nuts, but stupid he ain't. Talks all smooth and shit, but you just remember to keep that mask and jacket on. Do NOT turn your back on him, you hear? Don't know if he likes dark meat, but I ain't testing that out no how, no sir! He may be cool with you, you just gotta ask him nice."

"Nice, huh?"

"Yeah, polite, and all." Alonzo gives a clownish bow and tip of the hat, "He eats that shit up, I mean, (snort) he do alright for that. And do NOT forget to call him 'Doctor' Lecter."

"So," Barney starts, not wanting to sit idle all night, "Who's first?"

"Oh, yeah man, we gonna get Elijah first. He won't give you no trouble, just give him a 'drank' first."

"Yeah," laughs, "I know, I met him yesterday."

"Shit, man, I knew that! He was talkin' 'bout the big brotha ALL night last night. You just give him water, man? You bring any contraband in here Chilton fire your big black ass!"

"Nah, man, just water."

Suspicious look again, "Right, man. All you gotta do is tell him to put on his coat," holds up the straight jacket, "and tell him he gonna go talk to Ahab. When he comes to the bars, have him back up and you just tie it off nice and tight, see. I'll show you. Then you tell him to go sit down in his chair all the way back, and we both strap him in. That's it. He'll talk Bible shit the whole time, but you don't pay no nevermind to that business. Cleaners come in, mop up, we look around, then we turn him loose from the chair and lock up. Back up slow, now, he's old but he's a fast cat. When we out, you loose up his jacket and tell him to give it back real nice."

"If he don't?"

"Then you ask again, and if he STILL don't, well Chilton says you was a marine. Knock him on his crazy ass and we'll go get it."

Barney's eyes narrow, thinking how to handle this. He's no fool. Uneducated, but no fool. He knows Chilton only hired him for muscle. "Listen, man, I don't think it needs to come to that. If he won't do for us, then I'll go in and hold him and get the jacket, hold him enough to gentle him down."

"Hey, I thought you was a marine?" Alonzo clearly missed the seminar on humane handling of mental patients. "I told you don't be worrying about Chilton."

Barney creases his brow at Alonzo, "You get off on beatin' up old, half-blind crazy fucks? You think _I_ do? That ain't part of the code, my _brother_."

Alonzo backs up a little, looking a up at the big man a head and a half taller than him, "Hey now, don't be gettin' all bent outta shape. I don't wanna beat up nobody. You just gotta watch them, you know what I'm sayin'?" Scowling a bit now as he turns to get the keys to Elijah's cell, "Shiiiiiit, man, let one of 'em bite or kick and we'll see who gets all 'gentled' down, now."

Barney follows Alonzo to Elijah's cell, the old man sitting on his chair with eyes vacant as the landscape Barney left half way around the world. "Drank, Elijah?" Alonzo asks. Elijah turns in the direction of the voice, lips trembling, but no words. "Come on now, man," Alonzo says, still smiling, "You gotta get up and go talk to Ahab. Let's go now."

Elijah sat, appearing to wait for something. "Aw, hell, man," turning to Barney, "what did you say to him yesterday? He always get up for a drank."

Barney considers, and then says in the deepest voice he could manage, "What dost thou here, Elijah?"

Elijah's up, moving to the bars, cloudy eyes searching. Barney stands before him, and Alonzo chimes in "Cool, now turn 'round and put on your robe." Elijah complies, while Barney ties the straps, mindful of the comfort of his charge. "Go, return on thy way to the wilderness of Damascus." Elijah then moves to the back of the cell.

Alonzo regards the large man in front of him, "You a preacher man?"

"Naw, I just read up in case I had to talk him down today. Big Mama could quote the Word without even reading, but it's been a while for me."

"Shiiiiiiiiiit, you been studyin'?"

Barney's marine training had given him a measure of stoicism, though he did not have the word for this yet. He wished he had had it earlier, when he used to see red. Big black boys ran, they tackled, they sweat, they punched, but they certainly didn't read. Barney had punched, too, but learned early on that the fist didn't earn respect, it only made him fear himself. He did learn to keep his books hidden, much like his thoughts. Most books he wanted to understand, he knew he couldn't tackle, and putting on just made you sound like one of those dumb-ass zoot suit country ass niggas. Or, worse, you were trying to act white, and Lawd knows Big Barney ain't never gonna pass for dat. No, he wasn't ever gonna be bourgeois, neither. He'd have to be careful around Alonzo. Barney knew his fears, and ridicule tasted almost as bad as ignorance, knowing ignorance and desperation to open the door to _knowing_, with a key, not a kick. Barney shrugged, "Big Mama made us learn the Word."

Alonzo, not being the sort to contemplate the deeper meaning of any gesture, posture, or action, shrugged and quickly moved through the cell and both men anchored Elijah to his chair. Alonzo Jones was not, however, the only sentience present in the ward. Barney would wonder, when he was free in his head to do so later, when the great sentience buried deep in this place took note of him, but he would never truly understand why. The cleaning crew arrived and worked with surprising efficiency. At the next cell, Barney was not so fortunate in his communication skills, and both he and Alonzo managed to catch a few scratches before securing Miggs to his cot. After the cleaners finished, they asked to take a smoke and Alonzo joined them, not wanting to hurry on to finish their duties with the asylum's most infamous patient. Ignoring the twinge at his bloody suit jacket, Barney asked for some alcohol, and was directed to the closet he visited for towels on the previous day. Moving to the closet, he passed by the cell of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Glancing, he noticed that Dr. Lecter was awake, sitting at his desk and pouring over loose pages of a journal. Lifting his gaze to Barney, Barney gave no outward sign of shock at the unusual, piercing eyes that met his. Remembering himself, Barney gave a nod, which Dr. Lecter returned in kind, grace even in movement so subtle. Barney then moved to the closet.

Even marines can be caught by surprise. "May I suggest betadine? It is a much more effective disinfectant than isopropanol." Rasped the voice to Barney's back. This time Barney did flinch. "You must take care to clean the wound thoroughly, first. Mr. Miggs' hygiene is dubious at best."

Barney turned, his marine face still intact, and regarded the lithe man sitting calmly before him. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find some?"

"Not here, I would imagine. Perhaps the infirmary upstairs? Ask for Ms. Anderson." Lecter then turned back to his pages, Barney apparently being excused for the moment.

By the time Barney returned, Alonzo and company were mighty pissed. "Come on, man, get your big ass in gear! We get this last one done, we can all take it easy." Barney's stoicism would make Alonzo easier to bear in the coming years, and quietly amuse it's bearer, noting the effect it had on his animated colleague. "Well, now, _Mr. Jackson_," Alonzo challenged, "Let's see if you can do better with Dr. Lecter than you did with Miggs. Talk some of that righteous shit and get him 'gentle.' My arm still sore, man!"

Barney turned to face the monster's cage. "Dr. Lecter?" He entreated, "Alonzo and I need to follow protocol now and ask you to cooperate. He placed the straight jacket into the sliding food carrier and sent it through. I'll ask you to put this on," he paused, and then added, "please."

Hannibal Lecter stood slowly, moving to the carrier to collect the jacket. "Certainly, gentlemen. Give me a moment." Dr. Lecter carefully set his papers aside and moved to the carrier, picked up the garment and folded it neatly. "You mustn't forget the mask." He stated with small smile, white teeth gleaming for a fraction of a second. The cleaners took a step back and looked at one another with more than a little apprehension. Alonzo placed the mask into the food carrier, and Dr. Lecter attached the mask and donned his jacket before settling on his cot.

The twin Jims arrived with mace and batons at the ready. Barney thought it strange, even knowing the history of a man such as Hannibal Lecter, that his patrols in the jungle periphery had not entailed such a reek of fear and show of weapons. Barney entered the cell, detaching the nylon before reaching the bars, Alonzo more than happy to follow a few paces behind. He secured Dr. Lecter's arms and asked him to return to the cot. Both Barney and Alonzo tied Dr. Lecter to his cot with towels and watched carefully while the cleaners sped through their duties, careful not to disturb the books, papers, and drawings throughout, with the reverence that might be afforded a grand museum. If Dr. Lecter founds this mildly amusing, it would not register on his countenance. In fact, he seemed to be elsewhere. Alonzo would later insist that he was catatonic, though Barney wasn't sure that Alonzo knew what that meant. All he knew was that he seemed pretty lucid for a loony, and man could he _draw_.

The procedure complete, Alonzo instructed Barney to untie Dr. Lecter's straightjacket, but to leave the towels. That done, both men quickly backed out of the cell and left Dr. Lecter to free himself. Alonzo joined the others for another smoke break, while Barney stood puzzled. He had been briefed on protocol, Dr. Lecter exchanged his jacket and mask for breakfast, but something just seemed plain wrong about leaving him like that. What if got stuck, got injured and couldn't get out? Barney decided to settle himself at the desk shared by the regulars and to wait, out of sight, and check on the small man later. Staring him down wouldn't do, crazy or not, he was a man and a man had to have some dignity. Being without it had bred empathy into Barney, though no one would guess to look at such a man, save one.

Barney considered the events of the past year and was glad to be moving on, at least a little. Like Chilton, Cleavers saw Barney as muscle, but at least he respected him enough to talk man to man, not like he was talking to a feeble. He believed in the cause for a while, but incarceration tends to give one perspective. No, he was on his own now and as long as he kept his books and materials out of sight, he could dare to hope a little. Correspondence school was good – no one to single him out, no one to laugh, just a name on mailed forms to be judged on merit. Barney was hopeful, though daunted with the reading list. How in the hell was he supposed to comprehend the words of the ancient dead without context? The schools Barney attended weren't particularly concerned with philosophy. Maybe he should start with something else . . . he thumbed through his introductory texts on Western Civilization and Philosophy, the familiar pool of heat rising in his face and knives in his gut.

Remembering his charge, Barney ventured past Dr. Lecter's cage under the guise of stretching his legs. Dr. Lecter, much to Barney's surprise, was free and seated, the materials that formerly limited his mobility placed neatly in the food carrier. Barney proceeded to the carrier, nodding once more to Dr. Lecter as he collected the items.

"Thank you, Barney."

"You're welcome, Dr. Lecter. Do you need anything else?"

"No thank you, I am quite comfortable. Do enjoy your reading." He turned and resumed his musings over the stacks of paper.

Perplexed, Barney took the items back to the orderlies' station and almost missed the neatly folded paper within the folds. He retrieved it, almost moving to return it to the occupant of the cage, when he noticed his name written in a fine script. What the hell? Glad Alonzo wasn't here to laugh about a 'love letter,' Barney unfolded his note:

_Son of consolation,_

_Before we proceed, seek Pope's _Criticism_. 1531 W. North Avenue, Baltimore, MD 21217. If you still thirst, then return to the well tomorrow night at 10:00 sharp._

_Regards,_

_Hannibal Lecter, M.D._

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References will be made clear, later. If you want to know now, Google them (spoils the fun) or visit the library (makes the Doctor proud).


	3. Chapter 3

Lesson 1 – Not sure how many lessons there will be in this fic yet, but we're finally at the first step. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 – A Little Learning

Barney arrived for his 5:30 shift with a little apprehension, a lot of bone tiredness, and a splitting headache. He came close to tossing his letter in the trash, remembering that said communiqué came from a man-eating loony. Still, he surprised himself by walking to the address noted in the letter and staring incredulously at the Enoch Pratt Free Library. _What the hell?_ He was even more surprised that he didn't end up at a Catholic church house, wondering if he was supposed to ask what the Pope would say about Kings, thinking maybe he got his Word wrong and needed something better to keep Elijah in line. But a_ library_? He felt the heat and knives again and walked home, wondering if the resident Loony Honcho was planning to dress him down the following night. _Skinny ass white man wanna play massa?_ Barney tried to remember his mantra. _It ain't personal_. It ain't personal when crazy men bite or kick or scream. But Dr. Lecter, he wouldn't do any of that unless you left yourself open, he thought. What he could do, as Alonzo so eloquently put it, was make you run like you was fixin' to mess yo-self, make you look a fool. _Fuck if I'm having that!_ Chilton's bad enough, but not from a man behind bars.

Against his better judgment, Barney returned to Enoch Pratt the following afternoon, leaving a fair amount of time to get some answers. He got through the building OK, but it took a half an hour of shuffling through the stacks and trying to make himself small, not easy for Mr. Jackson, before he settled his belly knives enough to approach the front desk.

"Excuse me, miss, but I need some help with, um, an assignment."

A prim and stately white woman, who normally would have peered down her glasses, looked up and regarded Barney, "An assignment?"

"Yeah, see, I'm taking some college courses and I need to find out about the Pope and criticism." Skeptical look from Miss Prissy, "I think it's some kind of test."

Miss Prissy broke into an almost devilish smile, "Well now, it's been quite some time since I've been party to a literary scavenger hunt! You must have a very special professor indeed." Barney was glad that she seemed to know what Dr. Loony was up to. "I think I know just where to look."

Barney followed her to a large wooden box that had a whole lot of small drawers, filled with little bitty cards, as it turns out. Miss Prissy, turned, looking Barney up and down before taking a deep breath and speaking, "Now, I don't want to offend you, dear, but I'm guessing that you aren't a regular visitor to the library?"

Knives and heat, "No, miss, I can't say that I am."

"Well, then, first let me introduce myself. My name is Margarie Lewis. I've been a librarian here for about 20 years. I'll make you a deal, mister . . .?"

"Jackson, Barney Jackson."

"Alright, Mr. Jackson, my deal is that I will be more than happy to introduce you to our library and show you how to find what you'll need for this assignment and other assignments."

"What's the rest of the deal?"

"You'll sign up for a library card." Barney stares back blankly. "A card that will allow you to borrow our books and read them."

"You mean you can take these books home? Any of these books?"

"Yes, you can check them out anytime, up to six at a time, and keep them for two weeks. More if you get special permission – that normally isn't a problem for school assignments. So what do you say, Mr. Jackson?"

"I'll say OK." For lack of anything else to do, Barney extended his right hand, which was accepted by a smaller, gnarled hand. The bearer replied, "Good, then first let's introduce you to the card catalog and Dewey Decimal."

Barney left with his first library card, a collection of the works of Alexander Pope and other English poets, learning that this was called an anthology, an introductory text on Greek and Roman mythology, as well as the gift of a pocket dictionary. He also left with Mrs. Margarie Lewis's schedule and the promise that he would return with his assignments. He even left with an explanation for the moniker on the doctor's note, but only after enduring more heat and knives upon revelation of his full given name. Mrs. Lewis noted that Barnaby also means "son of comfort." An interesting thought. He did not, however, leave with an answer to the riddle within the letter, being told gently that the point was for him to seek it in Pope's essay. Barney made his way to a park near the asylum and spent the remainder of the time before the beginning of his shift slowly and methodically working his way through the text.

After two hours of sheer frustration, he came up with more questions than answers. Who in the holy hell were Maevius and Apollo? He knew Eunuch from the Word, subconsciously rubbing his massive jaw in remembrance of Big Mama's hand at his sniggers, but Parnassus? Homer? Pegasus? Barney doubted he could pronounce half of this shit, let alone understand it. His head throbbing, knives pricking incessantly, he felt terrible, defeated, stupid. _Ignorant._ He heard it in his head from the crackers near Big Mama's little house in Alabama, with their cracker-ass taunts. _Igner'nt nigger_. He heard it in the voice of his Drill Instructor, his teachers in what passed for schools in the too many rural and inner city neighborhoods through which he passed his formative years. Ignorant nigger who was never gonna get nowhere, he could almost hear Alonzo's jeer. He kept going until he reached the middle of the poem and thought, tentatively, that he might have it. He didn't understand it all, but he might have it. Barney headed for work, images of red eyes laughing in his pounding head.

Alonzo met him at the door with a face lit up so bright Barney that asked him what the hell he'd been smoking. "Aw man, you missed some funny shit today. Next time you gotta get here early, I didn't know it was goin' down or I could a told you! I'll find out next time man!"

"What in the hell you talking about?" Barney's headache was not doing wonders for his disposition.

"One of them docs that I was tellin' you 'bout, man, he came to talk to Dr. Lecter! Funny ass shit, man!" Alonzo doubled over with laughter, "This dude comes strollin' down the stairs all full o hisself, comes in and sits down in front to Dr. Lecter's cage, didn't even ask or nothing. Dumbass should a asked first."

"How come?"

"Man, Dr. Lecter don't talk to nobody who don't act like he's the shit! You gotta _ask_ to sit first, _ask_ to speak, don't be just sittin' yo ass down without askin' man!" Alonzo puzzles, "Don't know why, must be a white dude game, or something. Anyhow, he starts talkin' all this doctor shit about some 'theory' he got about what's wrong with Dr. Lecter. –"

"What _is_ wrong with him?"

"Man, how the hell do I know? Maybe he just hungry." Laughing again, "Point is, Lecter don't think nothin' wrong, and he sho' don't like no one else to say so, and he don't like it if someone come ask a bunch a big word dumbass questions about it!"

"What happened?" Knives and heat, full force again.

"Well, Dr. Lecter didn't say much. Didn't make much sense to me, don't know them doctor words and all, but I think he made somethin' this doc wrote a while back sound mighty dumb. Man, he don't even have to raise his voice! Doc Dumbass goes runnin' out lookin' like he got his pecker smacked with a hammer!"

"How's the Ward?"

"Aw man, they alright now. Dr. Lecter ain't said nothin' since. Think he might go all catatonic again. Too bad it ain't cleanin' day."

Barney accompanies Alonzo down with a thousand swords driving in his gut, waiting for his 10 PM appointment. Turns out, he didn't miss the full show. Chilton made a rare sojourn down to the Violent Ward to inquire about the afternoon's commotion. "Dr. Rossman should have dropped by the office first," he stated with touches of both irritation and mortification, "I could have warned him that Hannibal won't speak to an analyst." Asking Alonzo for a blow-by-blow, he did seem a bit amused by Dr. Rossman's reaction, though most likely because Dr. Rossman was on the receiving end rather than himself. In spite of this, however, it was decreed that Hannibal Lecter should not receive his mail for a week as a reminder of how to behave himself with guests. Dr. Lecter reminded Frederick Chilton that this particular guest was uninvited, at which point Frederick Chilton stated bluntly that Dr. Lecter should be more cooperative with those professionals seeking to help him. Dr. Lecter then politely inquired on the status of a recent manuscript that Dr. Chilton had submitted to the Archives, at which point Dr. Chilton decided that two week's hiatus for mail might be in order, followed by the end of this particular professional discourse. Barney was reminded by Dr. Chilton to be more vigilant about safety procedures as a passing thought, given that the infirmary budget did not include extra cash for staff treatment, at which point Barney wished Dr. Chilton to go and fuck himself once safely out of earshot. All in all, it was turning out to be a wonderful day for Alonzo Jones and the twin Jims.

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At 10:00 PM, Alonzo and the Jims off for the evening, Barney Jackson made his way to the cell of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who was busying himself with a sketch, being recently deprived of mail. Barney stood at parade rest, trying his best to look at ease with a belly full of steel, and cleared his throat, "Dr. Lecter, I got your letter and made it to Enoch Pratt."

Hannibal Lecter looks up from his sketching, "Ah, good evening, Barney, will you give me one moment please?" He places a few more strokes of charcoal near the margin and carefully places his sketch in the center of his bolted table. He then regards the large man in front of his cage with unreadable eyes.

Barney, unsure how to proceed, decides the best course of action is direct, "A little learning is a dangerous thing, drink deep or taste not the . . . " Barney falters, not having found this word in his dictionary. His belly hurting something fierce, but his eyes give nothing away.

"The Pierian spring," Dr. Lecter completes the verse in a pleasant voice, one of great _knowing_, in Barney's estimation, "Have you any ideas on the meaning of this particular passage?"

"Well, I don't know what or where this spring is, but I thought it must mean something about taking my studies seriously." Barney doesn't include his original thought that maybe Dr. Lecter had a problem with a man like Barney bothering to learn.

Dr. Lecter holds up an open palm, as if in response to Barney's unspoken conclusion, "The reference is to the spring of knowledge in Greek mythology, located near the home of the gods of Mount Olympus. Do you remember the following lines?"

Barney shifts his weight, familiar feeling of ignorance bearing down on him like the heavy peanut sacks he used to carry when he worked near Big Mama. "There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking largely sobers us again."

Dr. Lecter, seeing his soon-to-be pupil faltering, continues without mercy or quarter, "Well, Barney, are you thirsty?"

Barney begins to see shades of crimson and clamps down, "I don't know what you're playing at, Dr. Lecter. I spent all day at that library chasing this man Pope and his ranting and raving about stuff I don't know about. Are you out to make me look dumb, like all those docs that come to visit?"

"Are you dumb, Barney? Or, perhaps more to the point, do you think that you are dumb?"

Crimson deepens a shade, and he remembers Eldridge and states coldly, "What America demands in her black champions is a brilliant, powerful body and a dull, bestial mind."

"Ah, we return to perceptions, first mine and then the world at large, or at least the those of a nation. How very predictable. What is more relevant to our current discussion is what you believe. Do you believe that you are mere brute and muscle? I suspect that this aspect of your being is most familiar. Tell me, how did you feel when you entered the library?"

With an effort to keep his eyes from falling, Barney states, "Uncomfortable."

"Yes, I imagine that you must have been out of your element. Yet, you did not leave."

"No."

"You sought the answer the riddle."

"Yes,"

"Alone?"

Faltering, a small hint of defense in his voice, "I had to ask the lady at the front desk."

"Ah, you asked. What was the result?"

A pause, "She showed me that book."

"She _showed_ you the book? How very generous."

Another pause, "No, she showed me that catalog where you can find all of the books, how to use it." Something blooms in Barney's mind, not missed by the Riddler. "She showed me how _I _could find it."

"Indeed." His eyes intense, red sparks flying to the center as he studies Barney. Barney is fairly certain that he has done well, although he still can't help but feel as though he might be caught in cross hairs of a VC sniper.

"Perhaps, returning to my original query, you might consider Chapter 3 of Genesis, a more familiar context."

Barney does consider, rubbing his massive jaw again in contemplation. The story of the fall of man from the only book with which Barney was thoroughly familiar conjures many images - woman, man, tree, serpent – the latter bringing a chuckle from Barney's subconscious, "I'm already tempted by knowledge, and I've seen good and evil."

A momentary twinkle may or may not have graced Dr. Lecter's countenance, "Yes, Barney, you have taken the first tentative steps." The concept of informed consent was not yet formalized in the field of psychiatry. Dr. Lecter may have been cited as a pioneer in this arena, had circumstances been different. "Consider this little exercise a disclaimer, a warning, if you will."

Barney considered. The tree of knowledge . . . brought man the _knowing_ of God, and his downfall. A spring of some other gods that makes you drunk, then sober. "It may not make me happy or change nothing, but I think I'll take the drink."

Lecter smiles, revealing his small white teeth, "Be careful what you wish for," with a wink.

"What now?"

"Just this."

Not understanding fully, Barney creases his brow. This enigmatic little man wasn't going to make anything easy.

"I don't understand."

"You _ask_, Barney."

Knives duller now, Barney began to feel something more, a new hammer pounding in his head, the twist of a screw, the turning of a _key_. Feeling the first lesson coming to a close, Barney looked at Dr. Hannibal Lecter, multiple murderer and inmate, and asked, "So what's in this for you?"

"I believe you already have the answer to that question, _Barnaby_."

Later, when Dr. Lecter and Barney discussed Machiavelli, Barney would remember this last part of their first conversation with much amusement. On his way back to the desk, Barney brought Elijah a cup, Dr. Lecter a few extra pillows, and he made a few additions to his library list.

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References: Alexander Pope, _Essay on Criticism_

Eldridge Cleaver, _Soul on Ice_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews, guys! Enjoy this next installment, especially Dr. Lecter's special brand of tough love – tooooooooooooo much fun to write! Stay tuned, as Barney will (finally) get some action, at least in the realm of fandom, in subsequent chapters – once he learns to be a gentleman 

Chapter 4 – The Wisdom of Ancients

During his first six-months of employment at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Barney completed his introduction to Western Civilization and Ancient Civilizations under the careful tutelage of Mrs. Margerie Lewis and Dr. Hannibal Lecter, receiving satisfactory marks for all of his first semester's correspondence courses. Once he overcame his fear of ridicule and his own lack of understanding, he found himself engrossed in the material, much to his surprise. Alonzo teased him mercilessly about reading all that old white man shit for a while, until Barney determined that stoicism worked much better than engaging the man. Even better, Dr. Chilton left him largely unattended, which suited Barney just fine and dandy. Barney was particularly caught up in Homer, finding descriptions of mighty warriors and battles captivating. Moreover, he was intrigued with the concept of gods and goddesses endowed with human desires and failings, so unlike the all-knowing, never wrong Hebrew God of his childhood. _'Moira', Barney, the concept of fate, was what the ancient Greeks held as fundamental to the workings of heaven and earth. Not even the gods of Olympus challenged the three daughters of Necessity._ The concept of chaos as a rule of life, rather than divine intervention, was something Barney would ponder often. He suspected in his heart and mind that his tutor shared this particular pursuit.

Barney was determined to start the next semester's courses, though he found an unexpected obstacle in the two females that currently occupied his life. The two weeks he took off to see to Big Mama's relocation to a nursing home facility set him behind considerably. When he returned, he found that Annie wasn't too thrilled that he not only abandoned her for two weeks, but once back home he spent so much time with his damned books. _You use that dictionary so much you might as well be a damned foreigner!_ While a decided pain-in-the-ass, Barney was a man and, well, he did have his needs like any other man. And Annie, for all of her piss and vinegar, well she had her talents. Thinking of her mouth usually sent Barney's gut ablaze in a very different way than his intimidating belly knives, not to mention regions farther south.

Not having much experience with more than casual relationships, he found this one to be less than satisfying save for the sex. And even that hadn't been so great lately, come to think of it. He was experiencing a whole new world now, from his studies. He wanted to talk to her about it, get her to read some of the stuff he was reading. Hell, he even tried to read poetry to her, thinking that she would be surprised by such a romantic gesture. H did this to make up for his absence, as well as preparing a meal using one of Big Mama's best recipes, as he inherited her cookbook. _Laughter, derisive laughter. Let you leave for two weeks and you come back queer as a three-dollar bill!_ He gave up and just decided to fuck her and get it over with, feeling empty when she finished with him. When he arrived for his first shift after two weeks away, he was tired, sore, and contemplating the cost-benefit ratio of his current purveyor of sexual release. Sensing that he was tired and edgy, and perhaps sensing even more of Barney's predicament based on scent, Dr. Lecter began this evening's discourse with what appeared from the outside to be a kinder and gentler approach.

"How was the Ward while I was gone? Did you get everything you need?" Barney took his duties very seriously, giving his mentor all that he could to enhance his comfort, meager as comforts were, in the hell of the Ward, though ever mindful of safety and protocol. He knew very well with _whom_ (never what, he considered Dr. Lecter fully human, indeed, though not denying his otherness) he was dealing.

"All was quiet and calm. I was quite content indeed, thank you, having my books and correspondence, as well as the books you left for me. I was amused by your friend Mr. Cleavers, and intrigued by _Native Son_. Perhaps we can discuss these a bit later. Tell me of your travels, Barney." Dr. Lecter invited, his tone pleasant and conversational.

"I went back to 'bama. Hadn't been there in near five years, but Big Mama, that's my grandmother, well she's getting on in years. We had to put her in a home."

"A difficult decision, I should think. She was a large influence in your life?"

"Yeah, Mama wasn't around much, working all the time, so me and my brothers stayed with her in the summers when school was out, and a few years when school was in. Most of the kids around the neighborhood came over to learn the Word and get some extra food." Barney smiles in remembrance of sweet potatoes and ham on Sundays. Then a frown, "She didn't know me this time. That's when I knew we had to do it. My brothers told me, but I didn't believe them until I saw it myself."

Dr. Lecter regarded the large man, his own face a mask.

Defensively, Barney continues, "It wasn't like I could take her on, me working and doing school on the side. Brothers got their own families, too." Guilt wasn't an easy emotion for Barney to wrap his mind around.

Still stone faced, Dr. Lecter waits for Barney to continue.

"I mean, she helped take care of me and all, but I worked when I was old enough, sent money when I left. I couldn't stay down there. Nothing down there for black men. Come to think of it, not so much for white, yellow, red, or any color man to be honest. Don't know why any of them stay."

"Just as I am certain that they do not understand why you left." Expression unreadable, metallic rasp echoing in the ward at the late hour.

Bitter laugh, "No, I'm sure they don't. After I got back from the war, they couldn't believe I'd moved back to Baltimore. Told me at least the south has trees, ghetto's got nothing."

"And what about your grandmother? Did she support your decision to leave the south?"

Barney mused, genuinely considering the question, "She knew my brothers would stay, so she didn't say much. Maybe she just didn't want me to worry about what she thought when I shipped out to Vietnam, figured I had enough to worry about going to war. She just told me to take good care."

"A decidedly unselfish woman, your grandmother, thinking of what's best for you. That is a rare find indeed." Dr. Lecter's face still a mask.

Barney, caught between curiosity about whether Dr. Lecter spoke with experience of such woman and another spark in his mind regarding Annie, "Yeah, not many of them around, I guess."

"You guess?"

Beginning of the lesson then? Barney wonders where his tutor is headed with this train of thought, suspecting it isn't entirely to do with Aristophanes, "Well, aside from Big Mama, I haven't had much experience with what you call the selfless sort," wry smile crosses his massive jaw, revealing his baby white teeth, "my girl's kind of pissed about all this study time."

"Really?

"Yeah, she's sore that I left and sore that I had to catch up with my reading when I got back."

"Interesting. She did not accompany you to Alabama to be supportive of such a difficult situation. And she does not appreciate your efforts to acquire an education." Eyes rapt, focused on Barney's face, he felt as though the doctor could see right into him, like some sort of soft-tissue X-ray.

Barney considered. He had asked if she wanted to go with him. She could get time off work no problem. She had countered that he should let his brothers deal with it. She had plenty for him to do, for her and to her. But she could care less about what he thought, what he now knew, and all he wanted to know. His brow creased, remembering their last encounter, feeling as he had when Dr. Chilton had inquired about his interest in philosophy. Why were so many people in his life so determined that this wonderful gift of knowledge was not for him?

His opinion on the fair sex fit well with the ensuing discussion of _Lysistrata_ and _Thesmophoriazusae_, the bawdy humor and caricatures portrayed resonating with Barney that evening. He found his mind wandering, wondering if the choice of material reflected Dr. Lecter's own opinion on women, if he found women to be as unfathomable and treacherous as Barney had found many of his companions to be. Feeling a relaxed sense of camaraderie for the first time in present company, he dared to broach the subject.

Dr. Lecter, still pleasant and conversational, smiled at Barney's query "Tell me Barney, what attracted you to Annie in the first place?"

Barney, now feeling a bit awkward about discussing these matters with a man such as Hannibal Lecter and sensing he would find some of Barney's crude rationale as distasteful as Alonzo's vocabulary, held back a bit, "Well, she's pretty good looking," he mutters.

"Good looking? What features, specifically, do you find appealing in her?"

Now very uneasy, "She's, uh, got a nice face, and um, well, figure . . ." _Not to mention a hot ass and hotter pussy_.

Dr. Lecter, sporting a wide, almost feline smile, reminded Barney of one of those big cats on Wild Kingdom, stalking, just before the pounce. "I _see_, Barney, and am I to assume that her prowess and talents match her physical attributes?"

Now Barney is really nervous. _Man's been locked up a while_. While he didn't strike Barney as the crass or lewd sort, he was fairly certain that Dr. Lecter was straight (regardless of what Dr. Chilton insinuated), probably frustrated (Barney sure as hell was when he was in the clink) and wasn't relishing the prospect of fueling any voyeuristic notions that Dr. Lecter might wish to indulge.

"Don't worry, Barney, I have my own vast mental resources available and do not wish to pry into any of yours." Same feline smile, growing a bit wider and driving Barney's previously dormant belly knives in deep. _Can the motherfucker read everyone's mind?_

Dr. Lecter continues, "So, we have established that your attraction to your paramour is primarily physical. You are with her because of _how_ she looks and what she can _do_. Yet, you express surprise that she does not support your familial obligations or intellectual pursuits."

Barney is beginning to see red, angry at the words first, the truth of the later, "You saying it's my fault she's such a bitch?"

Distaste evident in Dr. Lecter's tone, "Is the blame to fall squarely on her petite shoulders then? She was good enough before you began to visit the library. Really Barney, Bigger Thomas could not have voiced such a pallid defense better," sardonic barbs driving deeper and deeper. "You select such a woman for the sole purpose of physical release and then wonder at her unwillingness to meet needs you had not considered previously. Perhaps you could dispatch her, too, like Mary or _Bessie_."

Barney up and out of his chair, rage filling every muscle, sinew, and pore of his being, "I ain't no motherfucking rapist animal!" He yells at Dr. Lecter's calm and still smiling face, the only change in his demeanor being a slight dilation of his pupils, almost eclipsing each maroon iris.

Barney's agitation set the late night calm of the Ward ablaze. Elijah screamed accusations at the phantom harlot Jezebel, Miggs stripped and climbed the bars of his cage, spittle and piss flying across the perimeter outside of his cell, the other inmates either joining the cacophonous symphony of discord or watching in awe and terror. All the while, Hannibal Lecter sat serenely in his cage, expression calm, surveying the exquisite chaos all around as if he were being serenaded by Maria Callas. Barney clamped down on his anger, tapping into his innate stoicism and his marine training, and quickly set about rectifying the situation, leaving the red-eyed demon to drink in the evening's agitation. While Barney busied himself, Hannibal Lecter indulged in a sip of the intricate bouquet of Barnaby Jackson's wrath, frustration, and deeply repressed fears, displayed in a lovely bonus in response to this particularly constructive and instructive lesson.

Once the Ward was settled, and exhausted Barney returned to stand before the cell of Hannibal Lecter, rage quieted but not fully dissipated, and regarded the small man who had stirred so much turmoil within and without while confined to such a small space. He was now reclined on his cot, perusing Richard Wright's magnum opus, "I did warn you, Barney. When your thirst returns, you know where to find me."

Thus began one link in the cyclic chain that defined their relationship during Dr. Lecter's time in the Asylum. Barney would not return for two months, not until two crucial and defining events brought him back to his duty and to the well. He would find the truths that would set him free, even if they did piss him off first. One of his truths would appear in the form of one Lisa Han.

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ReferencesEldridge Cleavers, _Soul on Ice_

Richard Wright, _Native Son_

Characters of Bigger Thomas, Mary, and Bessie found therein

(Barney, having recently had his horizons expanded, naturally decided to and delighted the good doctor by expanding his – perhaps to his chagrin)

Aristophanes, _Lysistrata_ and _Thesmophoriazusae_ (the former I read in college, providing my first realization that the ancient Greeks had a sense of humor)

You can find Jezebel in the Book of Kings, along with the prophet Elijah


	5. Chapter 5

First, a BIG BIG FREAKIN' HUGE thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story and is enjoying it right along with me. I honestly didn't think so many folks would be interested – but then again I should take a lesson from the jailhouse guru and give Barney a lot more credit, too. He's a great character, and I am pleased to give him more room to grow in cyberspace.

Enjoy the cliffhanger, and come back for more!

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Chapter 5 – Eastern philosophy

Barney had much time to reflect upon the ugly truths he was forced to confront in the wake of his rather difficult lesson. Pride and anger prevented him from seeking Dr. Lecter's counsel for a few months, making his lessons difficult, though not impossible, the doctor's greatest gifts already bestowed upon his pupil. Barney now possessed more confidence, and his introduction to Enoch Pratt provided him the resources to find much of what he sought. He grudgingly admitted, however, that he missed conversations with the doctor, and even more grudgingly admitted that the doctor was correct in his assessment of Barney's predicament. He and Annie had parted company not long after Barney's last lesson.

To his credit, in keeping with his philosophy, Barney did not let politics and personal interfere with business, remaining ever courteous and vigilant regarding the safety, comfort, and dignity of all of his charges, Hannibal Lecter included. If the doctor noted any of this, he gave no outward acknowledgement. Dr. Lecter continued to receive his extra linens, books from Enoch Pratt upon written request, and he had not received a sound thrashing from anyone on the ward since Barney's employment. This would change, coinciding with Barney's first night off following his return from Alabama, and with the appearance of Dr. Lisa Han.

Alonzo, who sadly had become Barney's primary social outlet in the absence of Annie and Dr. Lecter, informed him that another classic Lecter showdown was likely coming on this particular evening, probably with some fireworks from Chilton to add to the spectacle.

"Man, one of them trainin' docs is coming, and this one's a _girl_, man! Hell, I can't WAIT to see that shit! Dr. Lecter don't never get to see no females. I wonder what he gonna say?" Alonzo beamed.

"What's this one want?" Barney remarked, only vaguely interested. He was particularly enjoying his latest book, being newly turned-on to science fiction.

"Well, one o the Jims was listenin' to Chilton talk up the nurses, tryin' to get them in line for this lady. She work for a drug company, coming to talk to Dr. Lecter about some work she did on some new pill Chilton think gonna cure crazy. He probably think he gonna get a piece (snorts), I mean, he think he gonna get in some action with this new thang. Hell, he probably think he gonna get a piece of ass, too. He put on that nasty-ass hair goo."

Barney chuckled. It might turn out to be a good day after all. "Well, I guess we'll get a show."

Dr. Lisa Han, newly minted M.D., arrived at the Asylum at 6:00 PM on that Thursday, appearing to be as eager to leave the company of one very excited Frederick Chilton as he appeared to be anxious to keep hers. Alonzo, the Jims, and Barney waited in line at a polite distance prior to escorting her to Dr. Lecter. In Barney's experience, Asian women were quite unattractive. Too short, hips too narrow, ass too small. This one was no exception, though he did note her sleek dark hair and liquid eyes. They _burned_ with knowing.

"Let me be clear, Dr. Chilton," spoke the neat, petite woman, peering at the odious man above her through her carefully perfected mask, one of the few traits she chose to retain from parents' homeland, "I am not directly associated with the study. Dr. Wang asked me to speak with Dr. Lecter about providing an editorial as a personal favor. He was one of my mentors during my psychiatric internship before he fully devoted his time to pharmaceutical research."

"A _personal_ favor?" Chilton inquires, leering, with a feral smile.

"Yes," pointedly ignoring the innuendo, "I am not employed by Eli Lilly, nor am I an official collaborator. I agreed to act as a consultant and liaison, since I'm working in the D.C. area."

"Well, perhaps you could call Dr. Wang and extend him my very best wishes and congratulations on this ground-breaking work. He will no doubt be in need of a suitable patient pool for the clinical trials. I'm sure I could arrange access to our patients, under my personal supervision, of course. It would be an _honor_ and a _privilege_ to assist in bringing the first selective serotonin uptake inhibitor to the market."

_Slimy bastard_. "I'm sure you only have your patients' best interests at heart, Dr. Chilton, but it is a bit premature to discuss clinical applications. I mean, the paper isn't even in print yet, and it really isn't the first SSRI," she adds, almost to herself, "I mean, zimelidine was developed before fluoxetine. They really should acknowledge that."

"Well, if you weren't directly involved in the study, then it really isn't your place to question Dr. Wang's judgment, now is it my dear?" Dr. Chilton chides, eyes greedy.

"I may not have performed the work, but I am thoroughly familiar with the literature," she retorts, perhaps a bit too sharply, "I came fully prepared to discuss the matter with Dr. Lecter, my understanding being that he would not be willing to speak with me otherwise –"

Cut off by derisive laughter, "My, my, you little short-coats certainly don't come well-initiated, do you?" Eyes moving over her slim frame with a mixture of condescension and greed of a different sort, "Hannibal Lecter is a stark-raving lunatic, a multiple murdering _madman_! What sort of serious academic would wish to have his endorsement? Now, I'm sure Dr. Wang would be interested in applying his new treatments to ease the suffering of poor souls like Dr. Lecter, souls that are in _my_ care –"

Cut off by dark almond eyes that could level a mountain, "Stark-raving lunatic madman?" Each word carefully enunciated with cool calculation, "I don't recall those specific terms being listed in the DSM, but perhaps there is a disconnect between what is considered acceptable to you, _Doctor _Chilton. As for serious academic interest, Dr. Wang specifically asked that Dr. Hannibal Lecter provide the editorial for his work. His name still carries considerable weight in the field, and his publication record is impeccable."

Frederick Chilton, having turned bright red, moved in close and towered over Dr. Han, "Now listen here, young lady, you would be wise to remember your place and with whom you are dealing," words spoken low, but his growing rage clear, "this is _my_ hospital, and I will not have some upstart groupie come into my hospital to, to . . ."

"To what, Dr. Chilton? Both Dr. Wang and I arranged to speak with Dr. Lecter, through you and in good faith. We did not have to do this," she added, with a smile, not backing down from the larger frame standing way too close, "we have also been in contact with Dr. Lecter's legal counsel, and only the doctor himself has the right to refuse us."

As if remembering the staff, perhaps due to Barney's not-so-subtle step forward, Dr. Chilton took a step back, "Fine, go ahead and _try_ to get anything out of Lecter," he sneered, "the last little academic who went to his cage ran away in tears." Turning abruptly on his heels and brusquely walking away, he offered over his shoulder, "Dr. Wang will most assuredly be hearing about your insubordination."

Alonzo and the Jims were close to breaking, when Barney stepped forward, "Dr. Han, I'm Barney Jackson, I, um, well, I don't know what to say about . . . um, your welcome . . ."

"Oh, don't worry about it," she offered, with a genuine smile at Barney's chagrin, "Dr. Wang warned me all about Chilton. He had a few interesting run-ins with him at a conference . . ." thinking perhaps she had stepped out of bounds, she stopped.

"Anyway, if you want to follow me, I'll take you through protocol and we'll see if Dr. Lecter's in the mood for company."

Barney left Alonzo and the Jims to their snickers, glancing sideways and catching an amused chuckle from Dr. Han, "You might have guessed, we don't get much entertainment around here."

"I would guess not," she offered, looking around at the darkness of the ward as they walked, "I've seen plenty of wards, but I don't recall any as god-forsaken as this one . . ."

"Really?"

"Yeah, med students and interns get the least desirable assignments."

"So, you work around here?"

"Yes, I'm completing my psychiatric residency. I might be assigned here . . . " her dread at the thought of working with Dr. Chilton was clear enough.

"Well, if that's the case, I'm sure you'll do fine. Dr. Chilton loses interest pretty quick if he can't get a rise out of you." Barney offered.

"Good to know," she returned, "What can you tell me about Dr. Lecter?"

Barney tried and almost succeeded in hiding his amusement and chagrin, "He's tough, a genius, but really tough. He might talk to you, he might not." He thought twice, but then decided to add, "You might get the answer you want, but it comes with a pretty steep price tag."

Lisa Han would become quite good at her chosen profession, already being gifted with the insight to know when to push and when to hold back. Her interest piqued, she held back and only offered, "Understood."

Once briefed on safety procedures, Barney escorted Dr. Han to Dr. Lecter's cell, where he stood alert in the center, still as a marble and surrounded by his private gallery lining the walls. Dr. Han maintained her distance, glancing at Barney with an unspoken request, that Barney interpreted correctly.

"Dr. Lecter, allow me to introduce Dr. Lisa Han. Dr. Han, meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter." Barney secretly hoped against hope that his desire to please his estranged mentor's sensibilities was not obvious.

"Good evening, Dr. Han. I received Dr. Wang's letter regarding your visit only yesterday."

"Good evening, Dr. Lecter, it is an honor to meet you," replied Dr. Han, with wide-eyed sincerity, "Dr. Wang asked me to speak with you about providing an editorial regarding his latest research."

"You are a resident?"

"Yes, I just started my residency at Hopkins, in psychiatry. Dr. Wang was one of my mentors and part of the reason I chose this specialty."

"And so you agreed to act as solicitor? How very droll. David's esteem for me must be high indeed, sending a resident to ask for my endorsement."

Dr. Han hesitated, not wishing to be ensnared so soon, "Dr. Wang is my mentor and a friend. He asked me to speak with you in person as a favor, since he knows that I am familiar with his work and since I live in Baltimore. Will you please consider his request?"

Barney began to feel knives and heat in his gut, surprising himself. Over his months of employment, he had watched with amused detachment as Dr. Lecter shredded a lot of high and mighty learned men. Why he should concern himself for this particular academic was a bit of a mystery. _Must be because she's a girl_. Regardless of the reason, he had no desire to watch Dr. Lecter work Lisa Han over, so he moved to walk away.

Before Dr. Han could continue, Dr. Lecter turned his serene gaze to Barney and asked, "Barney, perhaps you would like to stay for this. Dr. Han no doubt has quite a sale's pitch with which to thrill us. I'm certain that dear Freddy was practically wetting himself at the prospect of getting in on the action. Well, Dr. Han, please do tell us all about the new wonder drug that is destined to become to psychiatry what penicillin was to general medicine."

Barney, maintaining his stoicism in spite of his surprise at the invitation, resumed his position beside Dr. Han. It would be interesting, to say the least, observing Dr. Lecter in action without being on the receiving end.

"Fluoxetine has great potential, to be sure, but I do not believe it represents a cure for depression any more than acetaminophen can 'cure' a flesh wound. I think it will provide a useful pharmacologic tool for managing severe symptoms of depression until the root cause can be identified and worked through in therapy."

"Succinctly stated, and a rather astute analogy. We already have many drugs that can mask emotional pain. What is one more? I am certain, however, that this isn't the sort of ringing endorsement that you are expected to elicit from me in my proposed editorial."

"No, Dr. Lecter, Dr. Wang's reputation and career are riding on this. Lilly is investing a huge amount of capital, both cash and personnel, into bringing Prozac to the clinic."

"Oh, and they will, Dr. Han, make no mistake, with or without my endorsement. The American public will clamor for this drug, a pill to solve all of life's little hang-ups. This is a snake-oil salesman's _dream_."

"I wouldn't go that far, Dr. Lecter, surely the FDA will –"

Dr. Lecter's chuckle is startling, even for those who have experienced it before. The echo provided by the Ward's stone walls add an eerie and almost mournful quality to it. The sound halted Dr. Han's thought. "Ah, to be young and new to the world of medicine, politics, and the pharmaceutical industry. Mark my words, Dr. Han, ten years from now you'll be prescribing this drug or some little derivative or another to every anxious career climber, divorcee, problem drinker, social misfit, and unruly child who enters your practice looking for a quick fix. Huxley's vision realized."

"With all due respect, Dr. Lecter, I sincerely hope that you are wrong. I take it that an editorial is not on the table?"

"That you have to ask that question tells me much of your future, Dr. Han. When you think back to this conversation years from now, you will review your prescription records with the DEA and feel a twinge. But it won't stop you the next time. Please give my regards to David. I bid you good night, Dr. Han." With a small bow, Dr. Lecter retired to his cot to resume his reading.

If Lisa Han felt defeated, she did not provide any outward sign. She simply took a moment to marvel at Dr. Lecter's cell before turning to Barney with a nod. He provided an open palm inviting her to proceed to the exit. Before leaving, she turned back to the monster's lair and offered, "Thank you for speaking with me, Dr. Lecter," and then moved toward the barred stairwell without looking back. Barney followed.

When they exited the violent ward, Lisa Han offered a weary sigh. Barney chuckled, "You got a lot more than most. Be happy about that. Didn't end up in tears, either."

"Did you think I would, as a simpering female?"

"No, I thought you would because he makes a lot of grown folks cry, or rage, or collapse." Barney offered without emotion.

"One thing I don't get, though. Who is Huxley? I don't remember reading any of his stuff in the journals."

Barney has to fight not to beam. This time, he has the _knowing_. "Aldous Huxley. He wrote _Brave New World_. In that book, they have this drug called soma. It makes everyone happy and calm so the government can control them. I think he was probably referring to that."

Lisa Han stopped and regarded the large man in front of her. "Well I'll be damned!"

Barney couldn't help but laugh, "How's that? You made it out alive and with all of your innards in place."

She doubles over with laughter, "I'm sorry, really, it's mostly nerves. I mean, I just spent twenty minutes shooting the breeze with a serial killer, and an hour before dealing with your slimy boss. I just can't believe that after all of that studying I did on structure, receptor binding properties, and pharmacokinetics, that the creepy nut actually got me on a _literary_ reference!"

"Yeah, he's good at that. I have a copy of the book for another week before I have to return it to the library, if you're interested."

This time, a winning smile graced the delicate features of the small woman's face. "I think I might enjoy that."

Before leaving, Dr. Han took the book, leaving her personal and clinic phone numbers and a promise to return it later in the week. Barney was accosted by Alonzo and the Jims for a full blow-by-blow, only to disappoint them as a coherent and calm Lisa Han walked out of the Asylum. "Aw hell! Least we got to see Chilton get all bent outta shape! Man, you _know_ he wanted to hit that shit! Ching Chang Lee Lang, sho enough's a pretty thang!" Alonzo had the Jims rolling.

"She ain't all that," Barney offered, "she sure is smart, though," he mused, "she kept her cool and didn't back down."

"But she ain't all that, huh? I thank you'd hid that shit, too, if you could. Man, you'd tear that ass up! Big ass brother like you! They wouldn't be nothin' left!"

"Nah, man, tried that Asian shit in Nam. Ain't for me."

"Sez you, but I know I'd hit that shit! I'd hit it with a baseball bat! Oh yeah, man, meant to tell you. We all got the night off man!"

Barney stared incredulously, "What in the hell you been smokin' now?"

Alonzo is practically jumping up and down, "Nah, man, seriously! Chilton got some temp dudes to work the night shift and told us to take off. Something 'bout an employee appreciation program, whatever the hell that is. Let's go hit the club, man? You been busted up with Annie so long, you NEED to get some ass, man!"

Barney thought, as he often did now, and it didn't smell right. Chilton was a pompous jackass who seldom gave his staff the time of day, let alone a day off. Something was up, but he couldn't imagine what. He shrugged it off, not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and left for the night. He would have few regrets over the course of his employment, but this decision and the ensuing lesson would cause him more heartache than any.

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I took some liberties with the history of fluoxetine (a.k.a. Prozac) and the timeline – though the first publications were from the late 1970s [Wong et al., (1974) A selective inhibitor of serotonin uptake: Lilly 110140, 3-(p-trifluoromethylphenoxy)-N-methyl-3-phenylpropylamine. Life Sci 15: 471-9; Wong and Bymaster (1976) The comparison of fluoxetine and nisoxetine with tricyclic antidepressants in blocking the neurotoxicity of p-chloroamphetamine and 6-hydroxydopamine in the rat brain. _Res Commun Chem Pathol Pharmacol._ 15: 221-31].

The clinical trials would have at least been on the drawing board by then.

Aldous Huxley, _Brave New World_ – quite a sobering read, if you get the chance.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews, folks! Just a few notes of clarification . . .

I don't have a particular beef with Big Pharma, working with a drug company myself in my own research – but the controversy surrounding the appropriate uses and overuse of antidepressants and over-marketing (one real problem with Pharma these days) does give me pause and was something I could explore with the reader through Dr. Lecter's eyes, as well as touching on the ethics of clinical trials. SSRIs have their place, but drugs don't replace the hard work of therapy and introspection in my humble opinion – we'll explore that hypothesis in later chapters.

As for Chilton, he is a great foil and honestly I'm just having too damned much fun writing him that way! Out of all the bad guys in the Harris universe, Frederick Chilton is the one I most thoroughly despise. I'll be more likely to develop Alonzo into something other than a comic foil than I will to give Chilton any better treatment. He gets to be the amalgam of every academic jackass who has ever pissed me off in the past 15 years. That would make him more of an anti-Gary-Stu, huh? Deliciously evil of me, is it not?

Dr. Han . . . no _Hannibal Rising_ connection, in spite of a similar ethnicity to Lady Murasaki (Dr. Han is Chinese, BTW, not Japanese); her story and what she'll come to represent is an important plot element, and, well you'll just have to trust me and keep reading

* * *

Chapter 6 – New Alliance

When Barney arrived for his shift on Friday evening, he was met by a very agitated Alonzo Jones. "Hell, you gotta do somethin' man! This is bad – can't have nobody dying now, not someone high profile! They shut us down for that shit. Out on the street, man!"

With a feeling of dread, Barney asked, "What are you talking about man, who's dying? What the hell's going on?"

"Man, Dr. Lecter, he in bad shape. Nobody told me NOTHIN' man, I just went to the ward and found him on the floor o his cell man, not movin' and all trussed up. Must of been in the straights all night. Chilton ain't here, and the nurses all gone, man!" Panic in wide dark eyes, words coming faster, "He's breathin' but it's ragged. Reckon Chilton got all pissed about losing his in on the study and got them goons to rough Lecter up. I told you he don't pay no never mind to rough, but Jesus it never gets _this_ far!"

Barney ran fast, with Alonzo trailing behind in a panicked state. When he reached the doctor's cell, his heart sank. Gone were the drawings, the books, the meager treasures afforded to his tutor. He could stomach that, having confiscated them once before after Dr. Lecter got Miggs all wound up. It was business, never personal. But the sight of the doctor bound and sprawled on the floor was too much. He never had a taste for cruelty, in spite of his power and his capacity for rage, Barney could not stand to see anyone treated as less than human. His mind flashed back to a small village, men in chains, beaten and pistol whipped, women dragged off into the night screaming. Maybe they were VC, maybe not. Maybe this man was a monster, but men shouldn't do such things to other men.

Barney knelt down, placing himself closer to the doctor's level, "Dr. Lecter, can you hear me? Dr. Lecter?" Barney looked upon the doctor's face, unmarred and surprisingly placid. Apparently Chilton's goons had been instructed not to leave any obvious marks on the face. "Dr. Lecter, if you can hear me, give me some sign. Chilton's gone, his brute squad left, it's just me and Alonzo, understand? We need to know how bad off you are, OK?"

_Moving through the cavernous halls of the Ufizzi at his preferred leisurely pace, Dr. Lecter pauses to gaze upon Botticelli's _Pallas and the Centaur_, musing over his plans to begin Barney's introduction to art, having no doubt that his student will return soon. He is pleased with his choice, as the mythic subject matter will be familiar to Barney, and therefore less intimidating. He had come far, but his lack of confidence in his abilities and his lingering doubts about his right to pursue any and all knowledge are still very troubling. And, as their last lesson proved, Barney is still not fully prepared for the ramifications that his enlightenment will have on every aspect of his life. An interesting subject, this man with a powerful physique, a surprising capacity for empathy and compassion, a damaged sense of self and worth, and a keen intellect that is totally untapped, completely raw. And, of course, his rage, so carefully hidden, so fearsome to its owner. A true challenge, and an even more welcome distraction from the tedium of the Asylum on those occasions when Dr. Lecter leaves the comforts of his Palace. Yes, this painting will be quite suitable indeed. Although . . . perhaps a few modifications will help, as Barney may not immediately appreciate the many intricacies and layers of meaning that Dr. Lecter wishes to convey. Truly, his student's frustrations, while entertaining and revealing, are not Dr. Lecter's intention. Growth is painful, but he has no doubt that Barney's life will be enriched manifold, should he survive. When his opportunity arrives, as Dr. Lecter is certain it will, he finds himself hoping that Barney is conveniently absent. Barnaby Jackson is far too astute naturally, and the doctor recognizes that enhancing his mind does not serve his own interests. It would be a shame, really, to dispatch such a man. However, should he get in the way, Dr. Lecter would naturally dispose of his pupil. Nothing personal. _

_He visualizes Barney's face as the visage of the Centaur, and is in the process of re-interpreting Athena's features when he is interrupted by the voice of his subject. His current condition must have been discovered, then. Of course, Barney does not comprehend his ability to compartmentalize discomfort, his current state detached from the physical pain resulting from his injuries. Dr. Chilton's torments are petty, indeed. Dr. Lecter is only mildly irritated by the fact that completion of his study guide will have to wait until his wrists and arms recover from prolonged restraint, but this should coincide with the return of his art supplies, meager as they are. In the meantime, however . . . yes, perhaps this setback could work to his advantage. Surely Barney, astute and full of compassion, will come up with the solution Dr. Lecter has in mind. Yes, this will be a delightful gift, and Dr. Lecter very much enjoys bestowing the most exquisite gifts to those he favors . . . Time to return and set the trap._

Dr. Lecter watches the halls dissolve to darkness as he allows his eyelids to flutter, "Barney?" Careful to keep his tone low, his reply suggests a weakened state. Truthfully his ribs are throbbing, bruised and one or two cracked, perhaps, but not broken. He quickly sets that aside. "Good evening, Barney. If it would be convenient, could I trouble you to contact a physician? I believe that I require some medical assistance."

Barney thought hard. The nursing staff was gone, and the doctors that were on call usually found a reason to avoid their responsibilities when it came to the Violent Ward. It could be hours, even a day or more, before one of them showed up. It didn't take him long to decide, being pretty sure she wouldn't mind, "OK, Dr. Lecter, I'm going to make a quick phone call. Will you be OK long enough for me to do that? Then Alonzo and I are going to round up the Jims and get you out of that jacket. I can't turn you all the way loose, you understand? We have to tie you down to the hand truck and put the mask on, but at least you can rest your arms. I'll keep the restraints as comfortable as I can. Will that do for you?"

"Certainly, Barney, thank you."

Barney got off the phone, with an assurance that she would be there in a half an hour. Barney and Alonzo, with the Jim's standing by in full battle gear, placed the mask on, gently removed Dr. Lecter from the straightjacket, and placed him on the hand truck with his hands and arms bound at his sides. Barney dismissed the Jims and Alonzo before resuming his care in private.

"Do you need to empty your bladder, Dr. Lecter?"

"Yes, that would be most helpful."

Barney retrieved a portable urinal from the supply closet and with gloved hands and carefully detached manipulation to minimize contact and exposure, assisted the doctor. The procedure complete, he then brought Dr. Lecter water, helping him to drink through a straw inserted through the slats in the mask that permit breathing. He then asked Dr. Lecter if he preferred to remain upright or to recline, and as requested, he gently lowered the hand truck, leaning the handles against the doctor's cot to elevate his head and torso.

"How are your hands?" Barney asked, unable to keep his voice from quavering ever so slightly at the end. _I shouldn't have left, I should have known. _

"They will recover nicely. Do not concern yourself, Barney." Dr. Lecter noticed the large man's head was down, eyes on the floor. "Look at me, please, when I speak to you," his tone left no room for disobedience, "Do not imagine that you have any fault in the current state of affairs, Barney. This is strictly between Dr. Chilton and myself, part of a larger philosophic disagreement, if you will."

At that moment, the sound of healed shoes and a rapid gate broke the silence, heralding the approach of Dr. Han. "I came as soon as I could," she panted, breathless in her haste. Looking from Barney to Dr. Lecter, she continued, "What happened? Were you assaulted, Dr. Lecter?" Having dropped her mask in present company, she made no attempt to hide the anger and disgust.

"Good evening, Dr. Han. Thank you for coming so quickly. I do apologize for being such a nuisance, but I believe I acquired some rather severe bruising during an encounter with a few of the temporary staff. They were a bit . . . zealous while placing me in restraints. Would you mind checking to see if any of my ribs are broken? I do not believe that I have sustained any internal bleeding, but it is probably best to investigate this possibility as well."

Her face hard, yet determined, she moved toward the doctor before a large hand on her shoulder interrupted.

"Dr. Han, we better think how to let you do your exam while following procedure to keep everyone comfortable and safe," Barney offered.

_Indeed, he is far too astute, mused the doctor with a small twinge of amused admiration. Just as well, really, the timing and circumstances are not at all ideal._

Dr. Han stopped, a sheepish expression gracing her features, and nodded. "Of course, Barney. What do you suggest?"

Barney considered, and then turned to Dr. Lecter, "Would it be OK with you if Dr. Han gave you a sedative? I can't think of any other way to do this right."

"Of course, Barney. I'm certain that Dr. Han is capable of proper dosing. A sleep aid would not be unwelcome," eyes focused on Lisa Han, "while I am in no way ungrateful for your assistance, I'm afraid my position on the editorial that you requested remains unchanged."

"That's fine, doctor," she stated, her quiet compassion clear through her eyes, "I suspect that your position on the editorial had more than a little to do with your condition. This is the least that I can do."

Dr. Han retrieved a syringe from her medical bag and calculated the proper dose of medication after inquiring about Dr. Lecter's weight, reactions to past medications, and general health. She injected the medication, and then sat quietly beside the bound man at a distance that was determined to be safe by Barney. She had seen much in her training that had left an impression, yet she found herself to be inordinately uncomfortable with her own treatment of this injured man who seemed so lucid, so gracious, and yet kept in such undignified conditions. She sighed internally, however, acknowledging that Barney was right. She wasn't certain of his particular mental defect, if that was even an appropriate term, but she knew his brilliance and cunning were not to be questioned. Still, before she donned her detached and professional mask, and as he began to drift, she met his unusual eyes with her own dark eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Lecter."

He said nothing, merely allowed himself to succumb to oblivion. When Barney determined it was safe, and still maintaining a close vigil, Dr. Han performed her examination. She determined that his injuries, while no doubt painful, were not serious, puzzling over how such a brilliant and well-trained physician could miss that. She put that thought aside and focused on her battle plan for the following day, having made a few tough decisions in the space of her evening spent in the Violent Ward.

When she finished, she helped Barney remove Dr. Lecter's sleeping body from the restraints and the hand-truck, mildly annoyed that he forced her to leave the cell before he himself removed the mask and quickly exited, but not before placing a comfortable blanket over the doctor that Dr. Han brought along from the clinic. That task completed, he turned his attentions to the small woman waiting outside of the bars.

"Thanks, Dr. Han, for coming to help. I'm sorry," he trailed off, his guilt still not entirely assuaged, "I didn't know who else to call."

"Barney, I would have been angry if you _didn't_ call me. You need anything else? I can stay and give you a break." She offered.

"No, you go on now. Chilton's gonna be pissed off enough when he finds out about you being back here in the first place. I'll keep an eye on him and call if anything comes up. It's not your problem now . . . I'm just gonna have to be around to make sure it doesn't happen again."

He was mighty surprised to see the look that crossed her delicate, porcelain features, "Not my problem, huh? We'll I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with you there, tough guy. He became my patient when I agreed to sedate and examine him, and I have a moral and legal responsibility to follow up," eyes still hard, "As for Chilton, I wouldn't worry about him pulling a stunt like this again."

Curiosity piqued, "Oh yeah?" _What the hell you think you can do, Miss High and Mighty? How you gonna stop goons from roughing people up without getting yourself beat, raped, or killed?_

"Oh yeah," she stated, anger replaced by determination, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a few phone calls to make. I'll see you tomorrow morning," she turned and walked briskly, yelling over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs, "with breakfast."

Barney sighed, pulled out his reading and settled in his chair outside the doctor's cell. It was going to be a long night, and he was sure an even longer morning tomorrow, knowing he was probably going to have another short pain-in-the ass to deal with for a while. He sighed again, to himself.

Even while in a bit of a fog, Dr. Lecter could still be very, very amused.


	7. Chapter 7

A little more about Dr. Han, a little more about Barney's hang-ups, and a little help from Dr. Lecter is dealing with them . . . Barney begins his slow transformation into a being with confidence in himself and his worth - his journey slowly leading him to a worthy woman . . .

Chapter 7 – Compensation

Lisa Feng Han was never expected to be unique, her ethnic _Zhongguó rén_ "Han" people comprising over 90 percent of the population of mainland China. Perhaps it was her parents' flight from Mao's conformity that planted to seeds of change in her destiny. Daughter and only child of ubiquitous Han immigrants with a work ethic to rival any Puritan, her successes were encouraged for family honor in direct conflict with the expectations of female subservience pervasive in her culture. This dichotomy was a help, rather than a hindrance, in negotiating chauvinism and prejudice through the course of her education in the west. A few things worked in her favor: first, her entry into medical school coincided with the American Medical Association's efforts to increase diversity in medical school enrollment; second, the tightly-knit Asian community circles in which Lisa moved were full of excellent connections. Indeed, her association with Dr. Wang came about through this code of camaraderie; third, the rise of feminism fueled her already strong drive for success, though largely at the cost of her social and romantic life. Now, in her current undertaking as protector of the Violent Ward concomitant with her residency training, she would have to rely heavily on another quality to cope with the burden of her workload the lack of balance in her life. Fluidity. The water in her personality would serve her well.

With the threat of an impromptu site inspection of the hospital getting his attention, as well as an invited review for _Journal of Applied Psychology_ providing the necessary ego stroke to gain cooperation, a few phone calls from Dr. Wang and other professionals in his wide and powerful network convinced Dr. Chilton that it would be in everyone's best interest to allow Dr. Han to complete a good bit of her residency training by seeing patients, mostly the less dangerous patients on the upper levels, in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. This, it was agreed, would help foster collaboration between the pharmaceutical industry and psychiatric training through minority outreach in health care, as the hospital housed a disproportionate number of minority patients. Naturally, Eli Lilly would toss in some funds to sponsor and promote the project to the benefit of both the company and Dr. Chilton.

While not a high-profile minority, Dr. Han certainly qualified as both female and non-Caucasian. This skillfully executed bit of diplomacy pleased Dr. Han, having learned that working the system to her advantage more than compensated for any mild discomfort she may or may not have experienced by the intellectual bribe to Frederick Chilton. Fluidity. This was the way to advancement, streaming rapidly through open channels, riding eddies while flowing around or percolating through obstacles, or eroding them over time as the smooth stones beaten beneath a great river. To balance her water, she would find a rough-edged earth soul in this unlikely place, one whom her waves could help smooth.

Barney was privately, albeit grudgingly impressed with the small tsunami's stunt, but maintained his outward stoicism. Seems that having the _knowing_ could get you pretty far. She didn't need muscle or fists to accomplish what she promised Barney that night on the ward. She had been friendly at their first meeting, and he was grateful for her aid with Dr. Lecter. He had been pleased with their talks about Dr. Lecter's care the following morning over breakfast, and as she followed up during his recovery. He was also surprised and pleased with their discussions on Huxley and other books the following week before she began her clinical duties. These exchanges felt equals, or at least more equitable than Barney was used to with doctors. Now, however, a wariness and unease grew in Barney, sharpening his belly knives. During her first two months of actual work, he overheard her speaking as a professional with the nurses, with Dr. Chilton, and with other physicians as they rotated through the Hospital, barely registering Barney as he passed through to collect supplies for the Ward. _It's not like we're friends_, he told himself. She was probably just humoring him after Dr. Lecter's beating. _Big dumb black goon that can read a little_, she must think, _probably like watching a trained bear to someone like her, someone with all that schooling, all that _knowing. _Well, fuck you, stuck-up ass-kissing chink_. Defenses up, he didn't note her furtive glance in his direction as he pushed his cart toward the service elevator.

On some instinctive level, Barney realized that the problem was really his own insecurity, but he didn't have the tools to combat these inner forces yet. More bothersome, was the juxtaposition of his admiration of her mind, his own insecurity, and the strange and disturbing recognition (or acknowledgement, if Barney was truly being honest with himself) of femininity that caught him completely off guard at the beginning of his shift today. When she finally did notice him leaving the upper levels, the curve of her lips as she smiled and asked about Dr. Lecter's recovery and new additions to his reading list, as well as a whiff of her perfume, exotic and rich, stirred Barney's gut and shook him. _Get it the hell out of your head, dumbass_. She must have sensed something in Barney's distant and curt answer, reaching for his arm to ask if something was wrong. He averted his eyes and muttered something about getting back to work, angry with himself over this lapse. He had been thoroughly engrossed in his studies and was more than a little frustrated in the absence of Annie, but he was also wary of tendencies brought to light by his earlier discussions with Dr. Lecter.

The proverbial straw came when Dr. Han entered the Violent Ward while Barney was cleaning up after Elijah. The old man's health was rapidly deteriorating, leaving him with both bladder and bowel incontinence. While Alonzo held down his legs, hardly necessary anymore as the fight had long gone out of him, Barney was changing Elijah's dignity pants, trying to place his mind elsewhere while enduring the stench. She walked past, she saw what he did for a living, and he felt low, humiliated, and saw red again for the first time since he lost his cool with Dr. Lecter. His victory in pushing the feelings aside for the sake of his duty were lost on him in that moment, but not on his keen guide.

* * *

His thoughts were meandering while Dr. Lecter was speaking, a sharp note in his normally even tone bringing Barney back to the present, "Perhaps we should continue tomorrow evening, Barney, if you're bored with Botticelli. I had expected greater participation from you during our discussions on the subject of art, considering your interest in my personal gallery."

"Sorry," he muttered, focusing his attention on the Centaur, noticing the remarkable similarity to his own mug, "I just have a few things on my mind. I don't think Elijah's gonna make it much longer, and it's not gonna be pretty as he goes."

"No, it will most likely be a messy affair. It is a pity that he cannot simply fly to his God like his chosen namesake, hmm?" A small smile crossed the doctor's lips, though it was impossible for Barney to interpret the reason. Dr. Lecter didn't seem too fond of the Word, though he knew it inside and out. A nagging recollection of Big Mama's warnings about false prophets and the devil knowing the Word came to Barney, but he pushed that thought aside as well.

Bitterly, Barney confided some of his "unofficial" research conducted during his examination of medical records and follow-up at the library, "Did you know Elijah's from Alabama, too? _Tuskegee_, Alabama. Wouldn't be surprised if he spent some time in Miss River's Lodge."

"A plausible hypothesis, Barney," offered Dr. Lecter, allowing a small glimmer of pride in his pupil's progress to grace his countenance for a brief moment, but it was enough, "general paresis of the insane is a severe manifestation of neurosyphilis, albeit rare. It could account for his psychosis, although the diagnosis would need to be confirmed by analysis of his cerebrospinal fluid. Perhaps you could ask Dr. Han about such a test. The two of you seem to have developed a rapport during our last little get together."

Barney felt heat rising in his cheeks and his gut, his earlier discomfort with at his changing perception of the woman and his humiliation after she witnessed him cleaning up shit as a lowly orderly fueled his burgeoning rage. Remembering his last lesson, he clamped down on his anger and looked Dr. Lecter in the eyes as he responded, "She seems pretty busy with the upper levels. Not sure she has time for anyone down here."

_Ah, so you are working to control the surge of your rage, Barney. Excellent. Perhaps you will receive your gift sooner than expected._ "No time for anyone in particular, or no time for you, Barney?"

Fighting to remain calm, stoic, Barney replied, "She's a resident in charge of a whole lot of patients, Dr. Lecter. Her dance card is pretty full. I'm sure it's nothing personal."

"Then why do you suppose that it stings you so, Barney?"

"If you're trying to get a rise out of me like you did before with Annie, it's not gonna work, Dr. Lecter. I learned that lesson. I can _learn_."

Open palm offered, "Yes, you've done quite well in managing your lessons, and your anger," he waits for Barney's pulse to slow further, "Your chief obstacle in your current pursuit is your inferiority complex."

"What's an 'inferiority complex,' doctor?" Barney asks angrily, defensive shields in position, anticipating a deadly strike to his fragile sense of self-worth.

"The phrase was coined by Alfred Adler, Freud's early nemesis, the one _before_ Jung," Dr. Lecter replied, ignoring Barney's agitation, "For you, Barney, it manifests as an intense fear of ridicule, particularly in the realm of intellectual pursuits. If you recall, one of your first questions when we began our discussions was, and I quote, 'Are you out to make me look dumb?' You are so eager for knowledge, Barney, and equally eager to share your new knowledge. Yet, you limit your sphere of intellectual influence and exchange because, in spite of your thirst for knowledge and how much you have acquired through your own determination, and in spite of overwhelming obstacles, you still fear the perceptions of those you deem better educated, don't you Barney? You are intimidated by those who hold a higher station, those better than a lowly black orderly working in the dark corridors of the _lower_ ward. You've compensated for your diminished sense of self-worth in the past by becoming physically powerful, sculpting your already large and athletic form into a capable instrument. What will you do now, I wonder, to compensate for your feelings of mental inferiority?"

The thought of Lisa Han's view of him had hurt, but Dr. Lecter's words cut even deeper than any imagined wound. Was the opportunity to share his uncommonly brilliant mind worth this much? _To hell with this shit_. Barney rose from his chair and moved to walk away. He thought back to his initial misgivings in approaching the caged man sitting placidly before him. _Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring_. In spite of his anger and shame at the doctor's insight, he turned and asked, "I'm not sure, Dr. Lecter. Do you have any suggestions?"

A wide smile revealed his deadly teeth, though this time the smile reached his eyes. "I'm so very glad you _asked_, Barney." He handed Barney his rendering of _Pallas and the Centaur_, "I'm giving you a homework assignment, Barney. Discover Botticelli's meaning, his _moral_, if you will, and you will find your answer." Apparently as an afterthought, Dr. Lecter added, "You might want to add Emily Bronte's _Wuthering Heights_ to your list of reading. The dynamics between Catherine and Heathcliff versus Cathy and Hareton might make for interesting _breakfast_ conversation, Barney. Barney wasn't sure why, but he felt the burden of his plight lift a little. He picked up Bronte's classic tale the following day. The doors to opportunity it would open appeared a little later.

* * *

References:

"Water" and "Earth" personality elements are a two of five elements in Chinese Astrology

The Tuskegee syphilis experiment is one of the most reprehensible examples of racism and human experimentation written on the dark pages of human history

Alfred Adler, a contemporary of Sigmund Freud, developed the concept of the inferiority complex as a part of his personality theory

_Wuthering Heights_ is a great story – I read it a long time ago in high school and plan to revisit it soon; the classics never lose their charm or relevance!


	8. Chapter 8

Hey Folks – Thanks for the reviews and enthusiasm for the story – moving things along now, Barney is inspired to continue his personal growth. I hope you enjoy!

Dr. Lecter should be back in the next chapter, and more ties to the book canon will be incorporated soon for my (and hopefully your) entertainment and amusement. Digging up the obscure references of Tom Harris is yet another geeky hobby of mine . . .

Chapter 8 – The First Move

Barney spent much of his free time during the following months of at Enoch Pratt, completing his "homework" assignment and reading _Wuthering Heights_ without much enthusiasm. Of course, he could only work on these tasks when, that is, he found a spare moment not devoted to his growing course load from correspondence school. He was not particularly worried about any deadlines from Dr. Lecter at the moment, as it was apparently the doctor's turn to add a link to the cyclic chain of their dynamic by not speaking to Barney, or anyone in the Asylum, for two months. He didn't take it personal, mind you. He had started to suspect that the doctor lived in his own head a good bit of the time, not that Barney could blame him in his current circumstance. Barney was at once immensely curious and terribly frightened about what exactly was in the mind of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Yet, he remained grateful for the doctor's willingness to share his knowledge and insight. He was less fearful of this insight, now, understanding that the initial sting brought on by the doctor's probing questions were followed by an increase in his _knowing_. Plus, he thought with amusement, he was "in" on Dr. Lecter's _modus operandi_ now, understanding the Socratic method through which the doctor challenged him after completing his intermediate courses in philosophy.

In spite of all of his growth and newfound insight, Barney found English literature particularly stuffy and irrelevant, at least during his initiation via Bronte. _This Heathcliff dude is a serious asshole! That ain't me, man._ He was pretty offended when he looked up the definition of "lascar" after coming across the term regarding Heathcliff's dark appearance and origins. _Typical, the black dude always has to be the bad guy._ Come to think of it, Heathcliff did have the right to be mad at his circumstances, but he chose to let his rage consume him and lost what he truly loved most. _All right, Dr. Lecter, I get it._ But Hareton, he could see why the doctor thought his character might touch a nerve, too, this broad-shouldered strong man who is kept ignorant and low by his cruel master and circumstance. Yet, he thirsts for knowledge, too, and finds help from his formerly cold cousin Cathy. He felt knives again, not wanting to acknowledge the obvious parallels to his currently uncomfortable situation. And about that, the red-eyed demon clearly had more in mind with his rendering of _Pallas and the Centaur_ than just an analogy for Barney's own struggle with his baser instincts and anger fighting with his growing ability to reason. _I mean, you gave the goddess of wisdom some funky, slanty eyes, doc._ Or, maybe it was just that Dr. Han was in his thoughts a lot, as well as in his space. Seems he was always running into her, even with her busy schedule. Or was _she_ running into _him_? With that thought, he checks out _Wuthering Heights_ again so he can finish reading it during his shift and heads to the hospital. He shakes his head when Margarie Lewis comments on Barney's romantic side as she hands him Bronte's book, wondering if all white folks liked this stuffy shit.

While walking to work, Barney mused over his plans for Dr. Lecter's continued care. He had kept his part of the bargain by increasing the doctor's comforts as much as he was allowed within the operating procedures of the Asylum. He was working on a few more perks to alleviate some of the tedium of days spent in a solitary cell; tedium he suspected was the only true discomfort from which the doctor could not fully shield himself. He would by-pass Chilton and see if Dr. Han's political capital could help score what he had in mind. In the meantime, the doctor continued to make his requests for reading material known to Barney by notes passed through the sliding food carrier after meals. He seemed particularly pleased that Barney was able to get him the FBI's _Law Enforcement Bulletin_ and the _News_ from John Jay College of Criminal Justice. It took some searching, but Barney found a reliable source, much to the doctor's delight. He wasn't sure it was such a great idea, Dr. Lecter being a criminal and all, but after a discussion with Mrs. Lewis on the ins-and-outs of the Freedom of Information Act, Barney figured it was O.K.

When he clocked in and ventured down to the Violent Ward, he was surprised and disconcerted to find Dr. Han sitting on the stairs, head in hands and looking very tired.

Upon hearing his heavy footfalls, she raises her tired eyes, "Oh, hi Barney," she offers with a weary sigh. She leaned back against the stairs, her hair cascading like a waterfall against the stony steps.

Calming his belly knives, and feeling genuine concern for the small woman below him, "Hi Dr. Han, rough day?"

"You could say that. I was on call last night at Misericordia General, up half the night with a few consults and involuntary commitments," another sigh, and then, almost to herself, "I suppose it should feel a little uncomfortable, denying someone's liberty . . . " her mask falling, the woman behind the professional veneer trickled around the edges.

"You do that much?" Barney questions, not missing the change in her demeanor. He was still surprised when she dropped her 'bitch-on-wheels' persona, as Alzono had gleefully put it, in his presence. He had not observed her out of 'doctor mode,' as he preferred to think of it, with anyone else in the Asylum.

"Not really, but those cases stick. One guy was a serious suicide risk. The other one stabbed his grandmother 16 times before his brother and grandfather could pull him off of her. I mean, I know I did the right thing," her words hold a trace element of uncertainty that would have been imperceptible to Barney before Dr. Lecter's influence sharpened his emotional senses, "one was a danger to himself, the other a danger to himself and society at large. I just wish, well . . ."

"What do you wish?" Barney, mindful of his size and ability to intimidate, takes two steps down and kneels, placing his face slightly lower than hers and gives her his eyes.

A few more cracks in the mask, before she suddenly seems to remember herself and shakes her head slightly, "Nothing, forget it. I'm sorry Barney, what was I thinking? If Chilton saw me like this . . ."

"Like what?" Barney fights to keep the defensiveness he feels from his voice and his countenance, using his reason to combat his baser emotional reactions born of fear and insecurity. He patiently waits for an explanation, hoping it has nothing to do with the fact that she's conversing with a lowly orderly.

Dr. Han regards Barney, then appears to relax a bit, "Like a naïve little first year resident, questioning every decision, every diagnosis, second-guessing myself . . . " she hesitates, watching for any change in his demeanor. He remains stoic, so she continues, "I mean, they train you to be assertive in med school and as an intern, and it's even harder for women. One little glimmer of hesitation, of doubt, and they pounce. It's just hard, sometimes, having to act like I have all of the answers when most of the time I don't. The human mind is so complex, and we know so little about it. Honestly, most of the time we guess at diagnoses, trying out different treatments to see if we're right and then moving on to something else when we realize we're wrong."

It seemed strange to Barney, hearing an admission of uncertainty and self-doubt from someone with as much _knowing_ as Dr. Han. Maybe knowing wasn't enough, or maybe having the _knowing_ wasn't the same as understanding or the key to self-assurance. Or, he mused to himself, maybe everyone has belly-knives from time to time, chuckling internally. He gave none of his thoughts away, merely nodded and silently encouraged Dr. Han to continue.

"Anyway, like I said, sorry to lay all of this on you. I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to me whine." She offers sheepishly, lowering her dark eyes.

"The Ward should be pretty quiet today, and given the choice between diaper duty and letting you bend my ear with your troubles, well which would you choose?" He offers his own sheepish smile, letting the joke serve as an icebreaker for the subject that he half-wished to get out in the open.

She looked at Barney, seemly weighing her thoughts carefully before giving them voice, "Is that why you stopped talking to me, you know, like _really_ talking, when I started working here?" He kept his eyes level with hers, so she took a leap of faith and allowed her mask to melt away, "Did you think I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore because you're an orderly and I'm a doctor?"

Barney was impressed that she hit the subject head-on rather than pussyfooting around it, his admiration of her directness overcoming his embarrassment, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. I mean, you have all that education, all that _knowing_, so I guess I wondered why you even wanted to hang around and talk to someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

She didn't pussyfoot, so the least he could do was to return the favor, "Yeah, a big black man with not much education or money who has to put crazy folks in straight jackets and clean up feces."

"Is that what you think of yourself, Barney?" she asks, not hiding her astonishment.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I can see more and hope for more. The reason I took this lousy night-shift job was so I could work on my education through correspondence school" He took his own leap of faith by acknowledging not only his fear, but his efforts to better himself that he had kept hidden from most everyone he worked around.

"Well, would you care to know how I see you?"

"O.K."

"I see a strong man, a man who could break most other people around him in two, and yet remains compassionate enough to care for the deranged and forgotten people of this ward," her fingertips flow in the direction of the dungeon below, "people who fling feces and fists rather than give thanks for their care. I see a man who guards their dignity and sees to their needs when most others would let them languish in neglect or subject them to abuse. I see a man with a fine mind, though he's afraid to show it to most. I see a man who wants to know more and be better and isn't afraid to put in the hard work to get there." She swallows, then looks him in the eyes again and adds, "And, I see a man who I would like to know better."

Barney, try as he might, can't hide the astonishment carved in his features. "No one's ever said anything like that to me before." Before he has time to talk himself out of it, Barney continues, "I actually have next Friday off, or the rest of the weekend, if you want to . . . um, you know, um hang out and talk or something." His eyes rested on the floor at that. _Did I just ask her out?_ He didn't tell her that never in his life had he ever been _scared_ to ask a girl out. Girls like Annie, girls who just wanted muscle and sex, were easy to read and easy for Barney to pick up. What was he going to do with a _smart_ girl? Her voice brought him back to the present, belly knives and all.

"I'm on call Friday and Saturday night, but I have Saturday afternoon free. There's a Shakespeare festival going on at the park across the way. We have some lunch, talk, check it out, if you like?"

_She actually looks excited, giddy, at going out with me? _ "O.K." was all he could manage.

"Great! I'll meet you out front at 11:00. You like dim sum?"

"I don't know. What is it?"

She laughs, "Steamed dumplings. You eat them tea. Mine are pretty good. My folks have always worked in Chinese restaurants since they came here, and I grew up helping around the kitchens and worked there, too. I'll bring tea, too." In response to his skeptical look, "Trust me, you'll like it. Otherwise I'll spring for pizza."

Barney was intrigued. He had just kind of assumed that Dr. Han was a spoiled rich kid who got a free ride through school off her wealthy and intact family, like most of the other doctors he encountered. Like he thought everyone just assumed he was just a big dumb goon. He could see another pattern now – not just with the perceptions of others, but also with his _own_. He found he was actually curious to know more about her background and her roots, rather than just how best to get into her pants. _That's new._ Though, he still had to admit, he really wanted to get into her pants, too. After leaving Dr. Han's company, first promising that he would call her Lisa from now on and getting a promise that she would tell him all she knew about inferiority complexes, just out of general professional interest of course, he hurried down to the Ward to ask the doctor what he knew about this guy Shakespeare.


	9. Chapter 9

Greetings all – Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Good Kwanzaa, Lovely Al-Hijra, Good Solstice, Happy Bodhi Day (Buddhists), Fine Sabarimala Mandala Puja, Early Happy Chinese New Year, and for everyone's little pet faith thingie that I might have forgotten, in the immortal words of Frank Costanza . . .

Happy Festivus, a Holiday for the Rest of Us

Feel Free to Air Your Greivances

And . . . enjoy this chapter! Catch y'all in 2010!

Chapter 9 – Trading Verses

Barney was particularly intent on his lesson this evening, as a man infatuated often discovers and rediscovers the magic and mysteries of poetry with each new romantic pursuit. Barney had, and would again. Finding he had an ear and a memory for verse, and not just for the Word, he had been preparing for this lesson. He was no longer so nervous about what he did not know as excited about what he yearned to know, and not just so he could get a better job, make people think better of him, or get laid. _Though truth be told about the latter_ . . .

It had been three weeks, and he had spent a good deal of time in Lisa Han's company. She interested him, and he finally acknowledged without surprise or dismay that the feeling was mutual. They talked, read, listened to music, and she was delighted when he asked if she wanted to go with him to the Baltimore Museum of Art. They had shared a few kisses. That, strangely, was the only aspect of their interaction that still made Barney nervous. His encounters with women before had involved little courtship and a lot of raw physicality. Barney knew how to fuck, quite well, actually. In spite of their other complaints, his previous partners had been quite enthusiastic in their reactions to him. He wanted more with Lisa, but she was different. Smart, but more than that, she was like a treasure he wanted to protect, cherish. And she was _so damned small_. He was sure he'd hurt her if he unleashed himself fully. Alonzo had actually said it best, he hated to admit, when Lisa Han had first come to the Asylum. He could definitely tear her ass up. He'd have to get his game plan on to avoid that. Once, that is, he worked out when he could and should take it to the next level.

Pushing those less-than-pleasant thoughts aside, Barney approached Dr. Lecter's cell, unfolded his chair, and stood at the ready until his mentor invited him to sit.

"Good evening, Barney. I trust you enjoyed the performance?"

"Yeah, Shakespeare's alright. I had to read the play a few times after, but hearing that old English talk by the actors was something else. It just made it all come alive," while not embarrassed to recite for Dr. Lecter, Barney provided his tutor with endless amusement by looking around to make certain Alonzo and the Jims were well out of earshot before speaking,

"That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she

brought me up, I likewise give her most humble

thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my

forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick,

all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do

them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the

right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which

I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor."

Dr. Lecter gave Barney a broad smile, and a nod, "Indeed, Signior Benedick is quite a droll mouthpiece for single men."

Barney chuckles, "Yeah, until he gives Beatrice a second look," not to be outdone, he continues,

"I may chance have some

odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me,

because I have railed so long against marriage: but

doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat

in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.

Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of

the brain awe a man from the career of his humour?

No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would

die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I

were married."

"Barney, I do believe that you are building quite a mental repository of verse," he offers with a smile, "so tell me, what is your opinion of poetry? What is poetry, what is its purpose, what does it mean to you?"

"I thought you might ask me that, Dr. Lecter. So I found an answer in verse that sums it up better than anything I could come up with on my own," he clears his throat, and proceeds,

"a poem is pure energy

horizontally contained

between the mind

of the poet and the ear of the reader

if it does not sing discard the ear

for poetry is song

if it does not delight discard

the heart for poetry is joy

if it does not inform then close

off the brain for it is dead

if it cannot heed the insistent message

that life is precious."

Dr. Lecter allows some of his surprise and delight to grace his features. His pupil's confidence was clearly carving a path to new cerebral destinations, indeed, this particular path being unfamiliar to the doctor. It would appear that Barney was now intent on creating a literary scavenger hunt of his own for his teacher. He would have been annoyed, at the very least, had he not been the master craftsman who handed Barney the chisel and encouraged him to whittle free-style. _How delightful_. "I must confess, Barney, that I am not familiar with this particular verse, though it is _suitable_."

Barney beams, but only a little, knowing that he should never, _ever_ to get too cocky. "_Poetry_, by Nikki Giovanni," he states, placing _Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day_ into the sliding food carrier, "keep it as long as you like. I _bought_ this one, man. Can't waste a sister who can write like that."

"Indeed," he replies, thumbing through the text, "insight from one who shares your ethnicity and experiences is worth exploring. Do any others resonate?"

Barney was still uncomfortable with many of his emotions, his fears, his dreams, and his struggles, but seeing the words flow through his mind erodes the discomfort, gives his pain a voice that he can bear. With eyes close, he speaks,

"If i can't do

what i want to do

then my job is to not

do what i don't want

to do

It's not the same thing

but it's the best i can

do

If i can't have

what i want . . . then

my job is to want

what i've got

and be satisfied

that at least there

is something more to want

Since i can't go

where i need

to go . . . then i must . . . go

where the signs point

though always understanding

parallel movement

isn't lateral

When i can't express

what i really feel

i practice feeling

what i can express

and none of it is equal

I know

but that's why mankind

alone among the animals

learns to cry."

Dr. Lecter, ever considerate, gives Barney a moment to return to himself before he comments, "I do not think that you require my assistance in completing your studies in this genre, Barney," he still allows a smile to sit upon his visage, "aside from a bit of contextual guidance here and there. Thank you for the anthology. I look forward to exploring Ms. Giovanni's work. Tell me, did you enjoy Dr. Han's company?"

Alarmed, Barney glances sideways and then whispers, "You _know_ about that?"

"I didn't imagine that your sudden interest in poetry and the local Shakespeare festival was due solely to your studies," his grins wickedly, "though I am pleased that you are making an effort to broaden your social sphere and include intelligent company."

"Yeah, she's a smart girl, um woman, that's for sure."

"And you are an intelligent man. Why should you not keep the company of a bright and engaging young woman, hmmm?"

"Inferiority complex again, I guess." Belly knives digging in, Barney remembers how well his last conversation with the doctor regarding his love life went. But, it wasn't like he wouldn't find out everything anyway.

"You don't guess. You are well aware that this is the reason for your discomfort."

"Well, actually I talked to Lisa, uh, Dr. Han a little bit about that, and she is having me try out this technique she's been studying up on, uh, this new kind of therapy. Only, it's kind of weird, I mean, not like what I expected, you know?"

"No, tell me," Dr. Lecter offers removing any emotion from his affect, "if you wish to discuss it, that is. I won't push you."

_Wow, that's a first._ "O.K., well, she told me I should keep a journal, like a kind of diary. I'm supposed to write in it every time I feel uncomfortable about learning, or my job, or whenever someone or something makes me see red or feel dumb. I write it down and then I'm supposed to think about how I feel about the situation and how I react to it and write that down, too. Then I sort of challenge each feeling and reaction to see if it really makes sense, or if I'm, um, what's the word . . . distorting the situation. Yeah, that's it, cognitive distortion, that's what she says it called. She gave me all kinds of examples and I'm supposed to see if any of them fit."

"An interesting premise for therapy," Dr. Lecter offers, privately pleased to think that his own encounters with the young doctor had made an impression. Surely she would not have abandoned the pharmacologic approach of her former mentor for the emerging field of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy had she not been exposed to Dr. Lecter's own unique assessment. And Barney appears to be reaping the benefits as well_. Most excellent_. "What sort of distortions have you observed in your own perceptions?"

"Well, I tend to generalize. Thinking that just because a few so-called smart people, well, I mean better-educated people, made me feel dumb and that I shouldn't even bother learning that everyone is going to be like that. And I get caught up in how unfair things can be. I did that a lot before, with Eldridge and the Panthers, you know. I mean, I know it's not fair how a brother gets treated and all that, but I can't change that. I _can_ change my own reactions and work around injustice as best I can. I mean, that's just how life is. So, anyway, I'm supposed to challenge each of these distortions with reason instead of feelings and see if they still stand up to reason. And you know, a lot of them don't. Anyway, it's helping. I don't seem to be getting as pissed off at little things."

"I am pleased to hear that, Barney. Dr. Han appears to be quite a positive influence in your life, on many levels. Virtue is indeed victorious over sensuality through the use of reason."

"Yeah, I figured you would approve. That's why you gave me that particular homework assignment with the wisdom goddess and the centaur. Anyway, Lisa, um Dr. Han, she's pretty excited about this therapy stuff. She says she uses it a lot, too. Not easy for her, either, being Chinese, but not _real_ Chinese, at least that's what the ones who didn't grow up here say about her. She doesn't really fit in the Chinese community, and doesn't really fit in the establishment, you know, the white establishment either, no offense, mind you."

"None taken. It would appear that you both have more in common than either imagined in the beginning."

"Yeah," Barney trails off, wondering if he should bring up the burning question that had been spiraling through his brain for nearly a month. He hesitated, but then again, who else could he ask? Besides, he read all about Dr. Lecter's days before incarceration. He had been the model of gentlemanly behavior by all accounts. Well, except for killing and eating people, that is. Barney shrugged internally. One quality doesn't rule out any other quality in any person. That was why, perhaps, Barney would come closer than almost any other living soul to understanding the monster/man in front of him.

"Dr. Lecter, can I ask you something? I mean, something not school related?"

"You may ask me anything you like. I may or may not choose to answer." His eyes flashed.

"I just wanted to ask if you know anything about this thing called a 'three date rule'? I heard that it's what, um, nice girls, you know, um, ladies used as a rule about when to, um, you know, um . . . sleep with a man she likes."

"Why don't you ask me what you _really_ want to know, Barney? Beating around the bush does not become you." His smile was downright chilling, and, Barney knew, deliberate.

_Creepy fuck, that last little pun was definitely intended! You really get off on making people squirm, don't you man? Well, guess that's the price_. "O.K. I would like to have Lisa Han in my bed. That's normally not a big deal for me, with any other woman. This one means something. She's a lady and I want to make sure that she knows that's how I see her and how I intend to treat her. How does a gentleman go about conveying that to a lady?"

Chilling smile still in place, though he softens his gaze, thirst sated for the time being. _Yes, enough for now_. "I think that you already have the answer to that question, Barney. A gentleman speaks his mind and is honest with his desires and intentions. When the moment is right, you will know because your lady will let you know. Now then, I think that we've covered enough ground on poetry and related topics for one night. I suggest you enjoy your dinner and continue perusing your history texts. You must prepare for this examination carefully to maintain your good standing."

"O.K. Enough for tonight. Do you need anything else?"

"No thank you, Barney, I am quite content. Thank you for the coffee and scones, though." Barney was granted permission to bring special treats to the ward in an effort to maintain order and reward/bribe the occupants for good behavior. Of course, he always made sure to bring extra goodies for lesson nights.

"You're welcome. Good night Dr. Lecter. I hope you enjoy Nikki."

"Of that I am certain. Good night to you as well, Barney."

As heavy footfalls faded, Dr. Lecter mused on his good fortune. Barney's attention to detail and to his charges never, ever faltered. His devotion to duty was unwavering. Fortunately for Dr. Lecter, Barney was not always present. His recently acquired ballpoint pen from the dandruff-laced visiting research fellow Dr. Doemling provided the first component of a makeshift handcuff key. It would have been such sweet irony to use the actual pen in his scathing review for the fellow's rather pathetic excuse for a book and theory. _Avunculism, indeed. The sniveling tears were an especially nice touch_. But, of course, he would not risk losing his prize. _Fair salvage, afterall_. The second remaining component would come later, he was sure, all he had to do was wait for one mistake. Dr. Lecter was exceedingly patient, as well as exceedingly cautious. Barney missed nothing, when Barney was there. Barney, however, had a few other more interesting items on his agenda at the moment, providing Dr. Lecter the means to begin his manufacture. Barney would also need more time to study for his finals, as well as time off to actually take them. Each semester, in fact. Coupled with his budding romance, Barney would be taking full advantage of sick leave and personal days, few as they might be. That would leave Dr. Lecter with the third essential component for his plan. Time.

* * *

References: Lisa and Barney saw a performance of William Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing" from which Barney quotes. A merry war between the sexes and a riot to read and see if you get the chance.

The poetry of Nikki Giovanni is definitely worth checking out, and not just because she happens to be from my neck of the woods

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is a very real, very effective treatment for depression, anxiety, and other issues – arguably more effective than antidepressant therapy and a true long-term solution


	10. Chapter 10

This is it, folks! No, not the end . . . that won't come until my muse visits me and gives me a new idea . . . But, it's time for Barney to get some action! Stuck in the Asylum for _SOTL_, spurned by Margot first (hey, he should have seen that coming, but I still felt sorry for him) and only vaguely involved with a love interest by the end of _Hannibal_, Barney finally finally FINALLY gets some action in my fic. Sweet, slow, steamy. Go get her, big guy!

Chapter 10 – Sweet and Slow

Barney approached the door to her apartment with some trepidation. _A first, for a first._ He chuckled to himself at the thought. He felt like a damned teenager again, but the nervous anticipation was a welcome feeling. The doctor made the right call. _O.K., you really gotta get the fuck outta my head tonight, doc. This ain't for you._ Lisa did let Barney know when the time was right by inviting him to come over to her place for breakfast. At 8:00 P.M. On a Friday. The evening before his whole day off on Saturday.

"Be sure to bring your toothbrush," she had said, as she pulled away from the soft kiss she planted on his lips. It made them both laugh that she had to either stand two steps above Barney or pull him down by the collar to initiate a kiss.

Barney was so very glad that his girl wasn't coy. He couldn't abide by mixed messages, especially being a big man and a brother. Too many brothers were rotting in prison or rotting in pine boxes with the nooses still knotted around bruised necks because some chick said yes when she meant no, no when she meant yes, or just plain changed her mind after the fact. Bad girls had always been the safe bet. He had asked if she was sure, and she planted another kiss on his lips. Still, he wasn't taking any chances. So, Barney planned to take it slow and do a whole lot of talking. _Another first._

The steps creaked as he made his final approach, another reminder of his size and power. _Yeah, definitely gonna take it slow._ He smiled. Perhaps the power of his mind was catching up after all.

She opened on the first knock. He was glad to know that he wasn't the only one feeling anxious. She was wearing the blue Cheongsam dress of which he was particularly fond. He was pleased. He knew that she rarely wore ethnic clothing, needing to fit in with her western colleagues, wary of any reminders of her otherness. He understood that need, and he understood how it felt to be someone's exotic, someone's token. He'd had relations with women of all races, and many of those outside of his own were with him more out of curiosity than any true interest. He'd fucked them, and even enjoyed some of them, but it stung. Lisa knew that feeling, and knew that he understood. Of course, he was fascinated by her otherness, but that wasn't why he was with her. She knew, and that's why she wore the dress. The fact that the form-fitting garment displayed her curves didn't hurt, either.

"Hi Barney," she said with a shy smile, "come on in."

Lisa Han's apartment was compact and neat, much like its occupant. Barney had visited before, but was now struck by the shadows cast by streetlamps and a few candles. His previous visits had been during daylight hours only.

"Want some wine?"

"Yeah, please, that would be great. You look nice. Blue sure is pretty on you." Just because he had banished the doctor from his thoughts didn't mean that he had banished the lessons.

She handed him the wine glass, demure smile still in place. Her dark eyes were clear, pupils dilated, possibly from the dark interior and possibly from excitement. She seemed a little at a loss, not knowing exactly what to do next. She lowered her eyes and asked, "How about some music?" Rushing, she skittered to the record player and began to fumble through the albums on the shelf above.

"Lisa –"

"I'm not sure if you'd like some light rock, some classical –"

"Hey, Lisa –"

"I have some jazz, um, and some Chinese opera, but that's pretty awful, well, mostly awful –"

"Um, Lisa, I –"

"Or, I'm embarrassed to admit it but I even have some disco left, although that's getting pretty old now that were in 1979 and all –"

"Lisa, listen, you don't have to –"

She spun around and continued to chatter and chirp, pace increasing with each flowing thought, "Did you hear about all of that business in Chicago? They had a big bonfire after that game and just BURNED all of those records. I mean, they almost had riots –"

Barney didn't dare laugh, even though he would later find all of this highly amusing. In the heat of the moment, however, he was beginning to feel his belly knives again. _She isn't, I mean, she can't be? Surely she's been with a man before._ He took a few steps closer, still trying to get a word in as she maintained her animated ramblings. "Hey, baby, you don't have to be all nervous if you haven't –"

" – RIOTS, I mean, really, disco wasn't high art or anything, but was it bad enough to warrant arson?"

Two more steps closer, wine glass retired to the table, large hands reaching for small shoulders, "LISA, IT'S OK." She jumped, apparently not having noticed his proximity until he put his hands on her. He removed them and continued with a lower voice, "I mean, whatever music you got is fine, or no music at all is fine. Just settle down, baby. It's O.K."

"Oh, right," she sighed and took his hand, leading him to the sofa. They sat at a close but comfortable distance, his hand still in hers. "Listen, Barney, I'm sorry I'm acting flighty. I'm normally not like this, I just – "

"Lisa, have you done this before?"

"What? I mean, yes, of course," she offered, maybe a little too quickly, "I mean, I'm not a virgin. But I'm not what you would call experienced, either."

"And you think that's going to matter to me?"

"Well, I hoped not, I mean, I _hope_ not. I just heard some talk, you know. Sometimes you and Alonzo and the Jims forget when I'm on the Ward."

"Alonzo? That dumb . . . jerk talks more sh. . . seriously stupid stuff than anyone else I know."

She giggled at that, "Oh, so you're going to censor yourself now, huh?"

Barney had to laugh, too, "Well, I am in the company of a real lady."

Lisa gripped his hand a little tighter, "That's the nicest thing I've heard in a while, Barney. Thanks."

Barney shrugged, "It's the truth. Do you want to hear some more of my truths?"

Lisa keeps her tone light, but she knows that she's going to get much more than physical intimacy from this man tonight. She's pleased, too, and her eyes show the warmth she feels inside, "I would love to hear some more. Especially since I don't think you share a lot of your truths with many people. In the spirit of sharing, I can offer some of my own if you'd like."

"Is that allowed, Dr. Han?" Barney teases, "I thought you shrinks were supposed to be distant, you know?"

"Detached? Yes, that's how we are with patients, Barney, but you aren't my patient. You're my boyfriend," she hesitates, "at least, I mean, that's how I see you. I don't want to presume."

"O.K., I guess it really is time for truth – I didn't come here just for sex. I have to be honest, though, that's my normal game, at least it was for a long time. Most of my 'dates' were all about sex, and that wasn't just on my end. You are one of the few real _girlfriends_ that I've had, and you are the first real lady, really smart, real lady that I've spent any time with. That's been cool, but it's been kind of scary, too."

"Barney, we talked about all of that. You are a smart man, and you've spent a lot of time educating yourself to bring out all of that intelligence – "

"Yeah, but it's more than that. I'm big and I got muscles. I could crush you, little thing that you are - "

"Hey! Watch it with this 'little' shit – "

He offers an open palm and a smile at her lapse. He was delighted when he found out that even ladies like Lisa Han curse when you get them riled, "All right now, baby, don't get all bent out of shape," he chuckles a bit, then he takes her hand and gives her his eyes again, "I just mean to say that I don't want to hurt you, physically or otherwise, but I'm a little nervous that I might. I feel a little bit like a linebacker trying to dance ballet."

She starts to protest, but thinks better of it. He's in uncharted territory, and he's nervous. It must have taken a pretty big leap of faith to drop the macho act and lay his fears on the line. She won't antagonize him, she decides. "I understand your concerns, Barney. How do you think we should handle them?"

"Same way we should handle yours. We should take it slow tonight and talk before we do much else."

"I'm O.K. with talk. But I was kind of hoping for more than that."

"Me too. But I want us to feel right about it every step of the way. No rushing, no pressure. What do you say?"

"I say O.K. My turn for truth and consequences?"

"Sure. Shoot."

"O.K. Here goes. I'm not a virgin, but I've only been with two men, and only a few times each. My parents are very traditional. Chinese girls don't have sex until they're married to suitable Chinese husbands. Then they have little Chinese babies and raise them as if they never left China. I rebelled a little, like girls will - " a look from Barney, " - O.K. I rebelled a LOT. That includes hooking up with a man in college and one in med school. Between school and work, I didn't have much time for much else in that department. I'm a little intimidated now because I know you've been with women who have more experience, and I'm afraid I won't live up to that."

"Lisa, I like you a lot. I can't say the same for a lot of those other 'experienced' women I've known. A lot of them used me more than I used them. The most exciting thing about this whole experience, knowing you, is that you really want to know me. You are actually interested in talking to me and listening to what I have to say. No woman _ever_ wanted that from me. Most just laugh at my high voice, little teeth and too-far-apart eyes, or just see big muscles and a stallion good for a few rides until something better comes along. You're different. I like that. I like you."

"So why don't you kiss me already?"

Barney acquiesced, leaning down to meet her soft lips with his. He even acquiesced when her tongue insinuated itself deliciously into his mouth to meet his own. When she started to reach for his belt, however, Barney reigned himself in with some effort and pulled away. "Baby girl, I'm serious about taking this slow. I got nowhere else to be tonight and all day tomorrow. How about some nice light music, more wine for me and you, too, and some time just enjoying, you know, being here with each other?"

Having forgone her mask with Barney by the third date, Lisa lets some of her irritation show. He fights not to chuckle. _Maybe taking it slow will be even more fun than I thought. She might turn into a real tiger if I make her wait long enough . . ._ Soon the room is flooded with soft notes, some classical piece that Barney doesn't recognize, yet. She returns to the sofa and waits. He raises his arm, inviting her to rest on his shoulder. She smiles and lets his large arms enfold her.

He feels her relax, and he relaxes, too, allowing himself to just be present in the moment. He takes in the music, the wine, her rhythmic breathing, her weight resting against his body for a time. Peace. Nice. Now.

He shifts and she looks up, needed not further invitation than his eyes. Lips meet again at a more languid pace, her arms moving from his shoulder to his face, his hair, his shoulders. She hesitates a bit when she reaches his broad shoulders and he breaks the kiss. "Everything O.K., baby?"

"Yes, I just wanted to, um, well, explore a bit. Is that O.K.? I mean, I like talking and I know your mind, but . . . "

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to use you Barney, and I'm not with you just for the novelty, but I would like to, um, feel those muscles of yours. I've never really had the chance to touch such a powerful man before."

He grins, pulling away to remove his shirt. "That's fine, on one condition."

She smiles, too, clearly feeling a bit more relaxed about mixing talk with foreplay, "What's that?"

"You're next."

She reaches out, tentatively at first, tracing down each shoulder to powerful biceps, her touch light. When she senses no disapproval, she touches more firmly, forearms, wrists, each fingertip, moving back up to his shoulders and down his chest. He closes his eyes and concentrates on each sensation. Her hands on his chest, fingertips gingerly teasing his nipples as he shudders, moving down his abdomen, but not too far yet. She reaches behind to explore his back, requiring her to move closer, pressing her body against his. She can't reach very high, but seems content to rest her head against his chest while his arms envelop her. They maintain the embrace for a time before she looks up at him with a smile. "Thanks for humoring me. What can I do for you now?"

"Let me see you."

She backs away a few paces, reaching behind to unzip the dress. She seems shy but determined as she slides the dress down her pale shoulders, slowly, revealing more porcelain skin, lower still to unveil her breasts. Her eyes locked on his, she lowers the dress past her waist and hips, finally past her legs and to the floor. Clad only in lace panties, she sees the fire dance in his eyes. "Do you see me?"

"I see you, beautiful baby girl," he whispers, "can we move this to your bedroom?"

She offers her hand and she leads him to her bed. He sits, placing himself lower so he won't intimidate, and reaches for her. She's in his arms, and they kiss at a decidedly less languid pace. His hands explore her silky hair, the delicate curve of her back and hips, down briefly to her buttocks as her tongue finds his. Eventually, she takes his hands and pulls them to her breasts, softly moaning as his fingers trace delicate skin in circles around each areola, smaller and smaller until he reaches her nipples. She breathes harder, but he doesn't quicken his pace.

"Sweet and slow, baby, let me take it sweet and slow. Let me take good care of you, baby girl, that's right."

Only when she relaxes and leans back, letting him set the pace, does he quicken and firm his caresses, leaning down to take one breast with his mouth as she cries out her delight. He takes the other, alternating fingers and tongue, as his excitement increases. He senses that she's having trouble standing now, so he pulls her onto his lap as he continues to devote himself to her breasts. Only when she grinds her hips against his growing erection does he move back further from the edge of the bed, gently turning her away from him and pulling her closer from behind and resuming his attentions to her breasts. She tries to turn back, but he stills her with kisses trailing down from the nape of her neck and along her shoulders and back.

"Sweet and slow."

"I need more, Barney," she cries softly, "please, I need more."

"What do you need baby girl? Tell me."

She leans back and takes his hands, moving them from her breasts lower and lower until they reach between her legs. He caresses her abdomen as she shifts to force his hands lower. He slides his hands beneath silk to stroke silky strands of hair as she squirms, determined to get his hands where she needs them. "Please, oh please . . . " she cries.

He moves his fingertips lower, careful to keep a light touch, slowly stroking her folds without parting them. _Not just yet. Sweet and slow._ She's shaking, breaths uneven, writhing against his hands, "Please, I need more, please oh please, dear god I need you here," and she guides his hand, encouraging his fingers to part her and stroke her clitoris, crying out in pleasure as he moves slowly back and forth over her engorged flesh. One hand stroking her nether regions, the other maintaining attention at her breast, and she is nearly lost.

"That's right, baby, oh that's right. Let me take care of you, just go with it baby girl, my sweet, sweet baby girl."

Pressure and time, pace increasing, fingers dipping into her, so wet now. He watches her face below him, eyes closed, her brow furrowed, concentrating on the sensations as he pleasures her. She is utterly beautiful as she comes, and it moves him more than he ever expected. He holds her close, turning her back to cover her face with soft kisses as she recovers. When her eyes find his, she smiles and kisses him deeply, reaching for his belt with no interference this time. He helps her with his trousers and his underwear, allowing her hungry eyes to take in the site of him, pleased that she was pleased by his very obvious excitement. She touches tentatively, and with encouragement and some guidance is able to elicit some moans from him as well. He signals his need for a break by shifting their positions again, gently laying her on the bed as he caresses her body, his hands determined to leave no path unexplored, pausing only to return to her mouth for more kisses.

"Barney," she pants after she breaks the latest kiss, "will you be inside me now, please?"

He traces her cheek with a large hand, "I want to baby, but we gotta be careful, now. Don't want to hurt you baby girl."

"I'm ready."

He rises and grabs a condom from the pocket of his discarded trousers. Placing it over his erect penis, he pulls her back onto his lap, giving her control. "Careful now, baby," he manages to say again, only barely, as she positions him at her entrance, "Slowly, now, take your time."

She smiles again, panting as she lowers herself over him, taking more and more of him as she gently thrusts down, groaning once the penetration is achieved. "Ahhhh, ahhh, oh, ah, oooooooooh . . ."

Hands cupping her face, his own countenance covered with concern, "Hey, now, hey, are you all right?"

When she can breathe a bit more regularly, she laughs, placing her smaller hands over his, "Yes, Barney, for the love of God will you STOP WORRYING? You're a big guy, but my anatomy was made for this, too, you know?"

He laughs, too, and relaxes completely (well, almost) as they move together, learning what the other likes, wants, needs. She comes again, just in time, as he feels his climax approach, fighting for control. He feels the sweet agony for release coupled with the ache to make this last. He didn't tell her then, but even with his experience, nothing came close to this. Trust, full disclosure, complete acceptance, complete ecstasy, and he is lost.

They remain entangled until the need for sleep takes over. Sometime in the early hours she asks Barney if they could try "Fast and Frenzied" next. _Yeah, definitely a tiger. Here kitty kitty . . ._


	11. Chapter 11

Hello all – a warm and heartfelt thanks for the reviews. I'm pleased that the lemon went over well. It was quite a lot of fun to write, though as a new author one never knows how such aspects of the story might be received . . . so I'm glad it was apparently fun to read as well.

It occurs to me that the timeline of this fic now coincides with the events of _Red Dragon_, so a small part of that canon will be woven into my fic out of necessity and continuity . . . but not much more than that. I never was too keen on Will Graham.

Also, a HUGE thanks to Jewel for acting as a wonderful cure for my sometimes unreliable muse. Her advice helped pave the way for some fun new plot developments in future chapters, being the master of great Lecterfic scenarios that I hope you'll enjoy reading as much as I'll no doubt enjoy writing. Stay tuned, and thanks girlfriend! I needed some good ideas!

Chapter 11 – Falling Off the Wagon

December 1979

The mood on the Ward was cheerful, at least it was for some of the staff. Alonzo Jones entertained the cleaning crew with his rendition of "Rapper's Delight" while they made the rounds. The makeshift sound system procured for music therapy and enrichment on the upper levels was free in the evenings, and Alonzo often moved the modular behemoth to the Violent Ward to stave off boredom. It seemed to calm Miggs and a few of the other inmates, though more often than not it caused Dr. Lecter to mentally vacate his surroundings.

"Shit, if I knew that sooner, I would have rolled this damned thing down here on cleanin' days years ago, man!" Alonzo grumbled. His mood was a bit erratic these days, being recently introduced to crack cocaine by a Bahamian cousin in the business. Alonzo Jones would become an early casualty in the onslaught of urban drugs. Barney was finding it difficult to tolerate his more manic ramblings.

"Maybe, or maybe he's still out of commission after all that business with the FBI," Barney shrugged.

"Man, I knew that cat was cold, but I never thought no one could do all that shit from behind bars, man! You see that dude Graham?"

"Once. He was waiting to talk to Dr. Lecter while he looked over that case file. Seemed like the kind of man who'd fit in real well here."

"Shit, man, he probably gonna be in the nuthouse after getting' tore up by the Tooth Fairy. I guess the doc got him back for puttin' him in this place. Hey, man, you better not ever piss him off," Alonzo's new habit was making him forget his mouth, among other things, "he might find a way to turn loose some sick motherfucker on you or on your little piece –"

_Enough of this bullshit. Now._ Barney turned to Alonzo, shoved him against the adjacent wall and pinned him by his left shoulder, taking care to mind his own left side as fire rose in the man's eyes, "Let's get some shit straight right now," Alonzo squirmed, but the chill in Barney's eyes was warning enough to give him pause, "first of all, _you_ don't talk about my girl, ever. Hell, _you_ don't talk to my girl for that matter, understand? Second, the shit that went down would have never gotten as far as it did if you hadn't been so damned stupid and let him make the fuckin' phone call that got him Graham's address –"

"Hey, asshole, you wasn't here! Had to go and take your damned tests. Think you all high and mighty, nigga? All that book learnin' and you still workin' in this shithole –"

"No, I wasn't here," he remained as coolly detached as he could manage, reigning in his rage with reason. He only wanted to scare Alonzo, not hurt him, but Alonzo Jones had touched a nerve, "Yeah, I took a day off that I was due, and they were dumb enough to let your doped up ass be in charge of Dr. Lecter. Let me ask you something," breathing level, rage checked for the moment, "what else did you miss? Mail? Sharp shit?"

"Man, I didn't miss, nothin'!" Alonzo's anger is replaced by a twinge of fear as he remembers Barney's size and power, "That cat just too damned smart. He know he get to talk to his lawyer without no one listenin'. Coulda happened to anyone."

"Not to me."

"Yeah, well, like I said, you wasn't here."

Barney relaxed his grip. He felt no guilt, really, or fear. This was between the doctor and the FBI, nothing to do with him. He'd stay out of it. "Now, last thing before I let you go on a break and sober up. You don't handle phone calls, mail, or supervise cleanings and searches on your own anymore. One of the Jims or the senior orderly upstairs goes with you if I'm not here. You got that?"

"Hey, man, you ain't my boss! Chilton's the only one givin' orders around here –"

"Yeah, well maybe that's going to change. I suggest you go take a smoke of something other than rock, clear your head, and grab a shower."

Alonzo jerked his shoulder out of Barney's grip, determined to get in one last wheedle, "Why yessa massa, man, whatever! Think you gonna get a promotion here? Really gonna make you da shit! All that time spent with them books sho nuff paid off."

Barney let him go, but the words wrenched his resentments from the depths of his mind and heart. Barney had come far, but in his naivety he underestimated how deeply his old fears ran and how tempting old habits and patterns would become. He didn't want to admit it to himself just yet, but Barney was growing tired of his studies. The reminder that, for all his work, he was basically still just a low-level grunt with little money and less respect stung. And, all of his applications for better paying jobs just weren't panning out, even with an Associates Degree. He wanted more, especially now with Lisa in the picture. His male pride wouldn't turn loose the notion that he should offer her more, and it burned that he couldn't now or maybe ever. In spite of her reassurance and apparent devotion, the seeds of discontent germinated, branches of doubt and tendrils of mistrust twisting through his mind, choking the rational. Sure, she was with him now. What about later? How long would she stick around? When would she get bored or embarrassed? He didn't share these feelings out loud, hoping they would all just go away. Denial is dangerous.

Barney approached the cell of a mentally present Dr. Hannibal Lecter for the first time in months, looking over his shoulder for Lisa. He wanted her to share their surprise with the doctor as a team. It was, after all, through her efforts that they acquired funds for the secure exercise facility. Barney, for his part, had selected the equipment and made every effort to ensure that no one, caged or free, would be hurt.

"Good evening, Barney," Dr. Lecter said. He was reclined on his cot, staring at the ceiling of his still-empty cell. "You look well. Keeping good company, I trust?" He smiled without malice.

Barney sensed no danger and replied, "Yes, very good company." He fought to keep his own grin in check, but to no avail.

"You're up to something, aren't you? " His smile faded slightly, eyes piercing through Barney, who would never really become comfortable with the scrutiny. Fortunately, Lisa Han arrived before it became too unbearable.

"Dr. Han," Lecter turned to face the small woman, "to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"You didn't tell him yet, Barney?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

Dr. Lecter waited patiently. In truth, the months of silence and lack of stimulation were wearing thin the doctor's near infinite patience. If not for his secret project, which was now complete thanks to Mr. Jones's lapse with the mail, he might have retreated to his Palace for longer than was physically healthy. The paper clip was not very difficult to manipulate, but preparing the tube had required much work and meticulous rubbing. One false move could have destroyed his starting material. Fortunately, the manufacture went smoothly. The doctor would have to be careful, however, not to draw any unnecessary attention to his calloused hands, and concealing his key proved to be a most distasteful chore. _Alas, one must make due_. Now he needed only to wait.

Barney smiled and asked, "Dr. Lecter, how would you feel about some exercise?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"If you wouldn't mind following protocol for safe transport," Barney slid the restraint materials through the food carrier as the Jims wheeled the hand truck to his cell, "I can show you our new exercise wing. Weighs are secured, all the rest of the equipment bolted, and we have to bundle you up to get you there. But, once you're in, you can move freely and use anything you like."

"I see," Dr. Lecter's carefully controlled demeanor concealed his genuine enthusiasm. His body craved motility almost as much as his mind craved stimulation, "am I to understand that my little time-out for naughty behavior has officially ended?"

Barney's tone took on a warning note, rarely used with the doctor but enough to convey his intentions, "Dr. Lecter, I want to be clear. This is a privilege, not a right. You will be allowed to visit the facility for an hour, three times per week while we clean your cell. Like all of your privileges, we can take it away if you fail to comply with protocol."

"Understood."

Dr. Lecter had his workout, accepting advice from Barney regarding proper lifting technique. His body pleasantly sore from much needed exertion, he was even more pleased with the return of his books and correspondence, as with the unspoken agreement with Barney that closed the subject of Will Graham. _How wise, Barney, not to meddle. That trait will no doubt serve you well._ Dr. Lecter also found himself genuinely surprised at the pleasure of Barney's returned company. He was a bit disturbed, however, at the tension he noted in his pupil, invisible to most. Dr. Han's achievement in securing funds for the gym was mentioned with sincere admiration, yet Barney diminished his own role. Barney was upset by something, and the doctor had fairly good idea as to the root cause. _Oh Barney, did you honestly believe your chosen path would bring external rewards and recognition, that all would proceed smoothly? Impatience and disappointments, my friend, may get the better of you. Old wounds open unexpectedly, old resentments fester, do they not? Your demons will not abandon you so easily. _Well, perhaps he could be of some assistance, when the time came, and if Barney would trust. It was the least he could do after the most unexpected gift of gym privileges.

* * *

Barney arrived early for his shift the following Friday, wanting to catch Chilton in his office. He found him seated behind his desk, appearing to be engrossed in his correspondence. Fighting not to chuckle at the comparison in volume, or lack thereof, versus his normal stack for Dr. Lecter, Barney knocked.

"Dr. Chilton, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?"

Chilton glanced up at Barney with as much interest as he might afford a stray insect invading his line of sight, "What is it, Barney? I'm running late for an important meeting with some potential donors," he turned back to his papers, the sheen of his pomade casting a glare as it caught the light coming through the adjacent window.

"Fine, I won't take up much of your time. I'm here to ask for a pay raise. It's been over a year since I got any more pay, and I've been working hard to keep the Ward in good shape."

"Well, Barney, times are lean right now, budget cuts and all. I can't even get an office girl. Have to make due with Alan out there."

"I've been working my shifts and extras, without overtime pay, and I've been picking up Alonzo's slack. Speaking of him, I think he might have a problem-"

"Interpersonal issues between staff members are hardly an issue I have time to deal with. Tell it to the Personnel Department."

"It's not personal, it's security. And, you are the supervisor-"

On his feet, he regards the larger man with a mixture of disbelief and loathing, "Now just a minute here, Barney. It's not your place to question my judgment or how I run this hospital! May I remind you that I took a chance on you, hiring a man with questionable political ties and a prior?"

Fighting to keep his cool, struggling with each breath, "The prior was related to the political, and hasn't affected how I've done my job here-"

"You should be grateful to have this job and the time it gives you to sit around and hit the books, or whatever it is that you do with your time on the nightshift. Honestly, there isn't really much to it. I could hire another big Neg . . . man like you from the streets for half of what you make."

"Excuse me? What were you about to say?"

Chilton backs off a hair, but not much, "Look, I realize that things have been a little hectic around here since all that mess with Hannibal and the FBI, but that doesn't justify extra pay. You can have the night off to consider your options, but let's face facts. This is the best job you're going to get right now. And let's not forget the flexibility," he shifts his demeanor, trying to sound paternal, " I'm a reasonable man, though, and I'll consider a pay increase if our budget expands. Until then, let's have a bit of perspective, shall we? Let's remember that having a decent, steady job is better than no job at all."

Barney ignores the greasy right hand proffered by his boss, turns and heads for the front door, vision clouded by rage and humiliation so consuming he thought that he might not make it out of the building before it got the better of him. He made it as far as the side wall before releasing himself on the trash bins and dumpsters. By the time he noticed Lisa's form in his peripheral vision, three of the bins were smashed beyond repair and one dumpster had suffered a massive dent.

"Barney," her voice small, her eyes filled with confusion and more than a little fear, "Barney, what is all of this?"

He couldn't take this, not after suffering such a large blow to his ego. He turned from her and began to walk away.

"Barney," voice gaining, "Hey, what's going on? Talk to me. Don't shut me out-"

Rage takes over, he turns and unleashes his fury in words, "I'm not one of your damned patients! Don't fucking treat me like some feeble!"

Lisa cannot mask the shock and hurt, even as she tries to detach, to reason, "Please calm down and lower your voice, Barney, you're scaring me," she implores, as she takes a step back, "Let me help you."

"I said STOP TREATING ME LIKE A FOOL!" He roars, sending her stumbling back against the wall. Only then does he see through the cloud of his anger, surveying the damage that stains his heart with guilt and shame, and fear of the damage he could have done, could still yet do. To protect her, and though he will not yet admit it, to protect himself, he walks away.

* * *

He didn't notice her at first, several beers down and sitting in the shadow of the booth. "Hey you, ain't seen you around in a while." She smiles. He notices her thighs below the hem of a short skirt.

"Been busy. How you been?" Barney asks, his thoughts still clouded, though his rage has settled for the moment, replaced by a pretty decent buzz.

"Been doin' fine. Missed seeing you, though." She scoots in beside Barney, sitting close. "You know, I was hoping to hook up when you dropped that skank Annie."

Liz was a regular at this old watering hole of Barney's. They'd hung out and had a few drinks before, always leaving with someone else. That didn't stop Barney from imagining a few scenarios when he caught a glimpse of her. "That so?" He offers, trying to play it cool, or just keep a clear head. He wasn't too sure of which.

"Oh yeah, don't be playin'. You know you a fiiiiiiiine lookin' man, big man," hand creeping up his thigh, nails digging in a little.

"I don't know, baby," he hesitates, enjoying the flattery and ego-stroke almost as much as the physical thrills she's giving, "I got some studying to do, and I'm sort of with someone -"

"Shit, man, you in school?"

"Yeah, I been taking college courses, I'm about half way through and – "

"Look, I really don't feel like talkin' 'bout school, or much else," hand moves between his legs, and she smiles at the response she gets, "and if this girl o' yours is all that, why she ain't here with you? You look like you need some company," hand slides up and down, "and she just leave you all alone? What she know, huh?"

Before he knows it, Barney finds himself in the alley outside, pants down, Liz bending down before him. _Oh, damn, girl!_ He's disoriented, confused, his belly knives fighting a battle with parts lower. _What in the hell?_ A few months back he wouldn't think twice, but it didn't feel right at all. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this. But, he probably scared Lisa off for good anyway. He wasn't getting a raise, he wasn't getting out, he wasn't happy there, so he'd be happy right here . . . This is what I am and always going to be, a big ghetto boy who's just gotta get back in the game, right? _No_. Hey, wait, all this shit I been doing isn't getting me anywhere. _You have her._ Had her. Just shut the hell up, let me focus on the task at hand. _This isn't you anymore. You can't go back to how you were, you have the_ knowing _now_. But why, why_? Because you won't ever be satisfied with less. You owe to yourself. You're better than this now. You have the_ knowing.

He shuts out her voice behind him, "Hey, what the fuck? You gone queer or somethin'? Hey, where the fuck you goin'? What about me?" Shame faced and more confused than ever, he zips and buttons himself up as he runs off into the night.

* * *

A few more notes –

I know, I know! After leaving the chapter like that, I'll acknowledge that I'm a big meanie poop-head (in the parlance of my 4 year old). Bear with me, OK? Angst happens!

I always wondered how Dr. Lecter could keep that "wiry strength in his hands and arms" while in prison – come on, it wasn't just with charcoal and butcher paper??!!?? The idea for the gym came from watching _Red Dragon_ (film version with Edward Norton – he actually made Will Graham more tolerable for me), and it seemed like the sort of thing Barney might arrange for the doctor and his other charges.

Rapper's Delight really hit in the early 1980's, but the underground movement that gave rise to rap (for better or worse – I have my own opinion . . .) got it's start in urban centers like the Baltimore/D.C. area it the late 1970's. Early versions of this little ditty were circulating then. Seems like the sort of thing Alonzo would dig, and the doctor would most certainly despise.

The American crack epidemic did get it's start in the early 1980's as well, and began with processing of cheap rock in the Caribbean – at least according to Wiki.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Out With the Old

He stumbled, making his way down the city streets without any real sense of where he was going, where he could go. Pausing only to throw up every block or two, he cursed himself for being such a fool, his addled brain barely able to tally all of the monumental fuck-ups of the week. _Fucking Alozno Jones!_ Why in the hell did he let Alonzo get to him? That foul-mouthed, strung out loser had nothing on Barney. And Chilton? What did he expect from that prick_? _Shouldn't expect anything . . . He treats all of the staff like shit, why should I be any different? _Because you try harder._ Didn't I tell you to shut up? I was having a good time, you know? _No, you weren't._ OK, maybe not, but at least I was minding my own business, working on a world-class hangover and a decent blow-job to boot. _You were hiding from your problems in old habits. Didn't work so well, now did it?_

He let out a maniacal laugh when he turned the corner and faced the Asylum, darkly amused by the thought that he might as well go and plant himself in a cell on his own Ward before the voice in his head started getting any louder. Being bone tired, moderately hung over, and not able to face his own empty apartment, he let himself in the door and wandered down to the Violent Ward to rest and clear his head. Relieved to find the place devoid of staff, he settled into the chair and placed his massive head between his knees, trying desperately to clear his mind of the now ugly images of the night.

Dr. Lecter's keen ears pick out Barney's footfalls, noting the uneven gate. Coupled with the smells of cheap beer, stale cigarettes, and other aromas that filled in the details of Barney's poorly chosen means of coping, he ponders how best to be of aid. Considering his likely state of intoxication, and emotionally charged state of mind, perhaps it would be best to take a cautious approach. He has no fear of Barney, drunk or otherwise, but clearly something has caused the man considerable distress, and pushing the issue with too much force might escalate the situation. _That simply won't do._ He must allow Barney ask for help on his own, and he can best accomplish this by avoiding confrontation.

"Barney." He calls to the dark.

"Barney, might I trouble you for a cup of coffee?" he offers, and as an afterthought, "Perhaps you would enjoy a cup, too?"

Barney, head pounding and unable to think of anything else to do, calls back, "Sure, Dr. Lecter. Give me just a sec, OK?"

"Certainly. I'm not going anywhere."

Barney makes his way upstairs, raiding the good coffee stash and swiping some real cream and sugar cubes from the cafeteria. He wheels the tray down, and steels himself to face the monster's ridicule for his lapses. Instead, he is greeted with a seemingly genuine smile, perhaps with a hint of understanding and kindness? _Can't be. Must be the booze._ "I brought the good stuff. Even found some cookies, if you'd like."

The doctor nods, accepting the warm cup and confections offered through the food carrier. He regards the man in front of him, pain, confusion, and a hearty serving of guilt evident on his face in spite of efforts to hide the emotions. "Sit down, if you wish, Barney."

Barney sits, taking a gulp of coffee despite his protesting gullet, and awaits judgment. When the silence becomes deafening, he mutters, "Go ahead, say it."

"Pardon?"

"You know, say 'I told you so.' Say 'I warned you.' Tell me how I screwed it all up, how I was dumb enough to think anyone would give a damn about anything other than my size, color, or record, no matter how much education I get. How a little learning is dangerous. How I got so mad I chased off the best thing that ever happened to me, and then made sure to throw it all away with a back alley . . . " he couldn't bring himself to finish, hanging his head and waiting for the axe. What he hears instead is a sigh.

"I do not think," Dr. Lecter begins slowly, waiting with patience until Barney makes eye contact, "that anything I could say to you at this moment would sting so much as your self-inflicted anguish." He sips his coffee and waits, inviting Barney to speak at his leisure.

"I fucked up." He said to his shoes. Then, as an afterthought, "Sorry, I mean, I really messed up a lot of stuff today."

"Care to talk about it?"

He looks up again, searching the monster's face for any signs of treachery.

"Come now, Barney. This isn't a school night," he chuckles, eliciting a wan smile from the opposite side of the cage, "If you are in need of an 'ear to bend,' as I believe the saying goes, well, I am a captive audience."

"You really want to hear?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know," he considers, "I guess I'm just not used to talking about stuff like this."

"You know, once upon a time, I was considered to be a rather talented therapist, and a good listener."

Barney cringes, remembering what he had said to Lisa about being a patient.

Responding to his discomfort, the doctor offers, "Or, if you prefer a more 'man-to-man' approach, perhaps we could speak as friends?"

Barney creases his brow, and thinks for a moment. Then, he makes his decision. _What else do I have to lose?_ "I asked Chilton for a raise today. Been meaning to for a while. It's in the contract. Anyway, all the other job applications I put in bounced, so I figured I'd work with what I got going on now. Chilton, well, he acted like Chilton and I lost my cool. I made it out of the building without punching the son of a bitch, but I couldn't keep it all in . . ."

"That you managed your frustration while confronting your supervisor, odious as he is and will likely remain, speaks volumes concerning your growth, Barney. Yet, it would appear that you are encountering a great deal of difficulty with repressed anger. Denying such powerful emotion is dangerous."

"Yeah, I found that out the hard way . . ."

"Yes?"

"Lisa caught me in a rage just after. I couldn't think straight, couldn't see anything but red, you know?"

"I understand. Please continue, when you are ready."

"I just couldn't stand for her to see me like that, acting like a rabid animal, after Chilton took my pride . . . she's my girl, was my girl," he corrected, eyes on the ground, "I needed that raise to do for her. What kind of man, real man, can't do for his woman? Anyway, I let loose on her and she just looked so scared. She wanted to talk, but I just yelled again and walked away. Couldn't let her see me weak, tell her how he brought me so low . . ."

"I realize how difficult it must be for you to share such deeply personal matters, with your background, and carrying such beliefs about acceptable masculine behavior and emotional response. I am pleased that you are willing to place such trust in our friendship, Barney. Know that I will never betray your confidence."

"Thank you, doctor. Anyway, before I knew it, I was at this bar downtown. One I used to hang out in a lot, before school and Lisa. I got pretty drunk. Stupid, I know, but I did it and I'll own up to it. I got cornered by this girl I sort of knew before, and we ended up in a back alley. I'll spare you the details and myself the bad memory."

"I see. Did you betray Lisa?"

"She did a fair amount of groping, and started, well, " he shuddered, suddenly feeling in need of a really long shower, "but I stopped it before it got too far."

"Ah, you stopped it. What triggered you to end what must have been, at least in part, a rather gratifying experience?"

"That's just it, I mean, it wasn't gratifying at all. It felt wrong. I kept hearing this voice in my head that told me I didn't belong there. Kept telling me that I knew better, was better than that."

"And so you are, Barney."

"Doesn't matter, though."

"It doesn't matter? I believe it matters immensely. Perhaps now, after how far you've traveled on this path, you are ready to shed your old life?"

Burden visibly lifted, if only by a fraction, Barney nods, "Yeah, I can't go back. I don't want to go back. But . . ."

"But what?"

"I don't know if I can go forward, either."

"Then you must 'go where the signs point, though always understanding parallel movement isn't lateral.' "

He smiles at the verse, remembering the thrill of discovery, of knowledge.

"You have acknowledged your mistakes, and stopped yourself from even more self-destructive behavior. That shows a great deal of progress in your efforts at self-improvement. While you were, perhaps, naïve in thinking that you have overcome all of your obstacles, both internal and external, nothing that you have done is unforgivable-"

Barney opens his mouth to protest, and is stopped by the first flash of irritation on the doctor's part that evening. He stopped, without fear or anger, realizing that the doctor simply did not appreciate interruptions.

"-as I said, nothing you have done is unforgivable, so long as you learn from this experience, endeavor not to repeat your mistakes, and make every effort to make amends, starting with yourself. That, more than any material gains you could ever acquire, is the truest measure of a man."

Barney looks confused. "Starting with myself?"

"Yes, first and foremost, offer yourself forgiveness and accept the peace it brings you. Then, I must recommend that you speak with Lisa. Do not delay, as she is most likely as worried and distressed as you. Be as honest with her as you have been with me, with the possible exception of your indiscretion in the alley, apologize, and grant her space and time. So long as you did not commit a bona fide act of infidelity, there is not need to burden her with unnecessary details. Such a confession would only serve to assuage your own guilt, which in this case is a healthy response, rather than serving her."

He considers, "Yeah, I think I'll take that advice. Well, as soon as I finish my coffee and have a shower."

"Perhaps you would care to delve a bit deeper into the root cause of your behavior?"

"I thought I had. I mean, I didn't get a raise, I got real pissed and thought about giving it all up, I was stupid and let myself wind up in a seedy dive with a bad crowd –"

"Your former associates."

"Yeah, my old crowd."

"Let that simmer for a moment. Among all of the possible destinations to which you could run, you 'found yourself' back in a former haunt."

He does let it simmer. He remembers getting there, almost on autopilot, how easy it was to walk in, order drink after drink, surround himself with the atmosphere he thought he had abandoned. "I think I see what you're getting at. I was messed up, in my head, and I went back to what I knew."

"Precisely. In times of duress, human beings more often than not seek out the familiar for comfort, consolation, and safety. It is in our nature," Barney notes the use of 'our' with interest, but wisely chooses not to pursue, "to seek solace in old patterns, albeit unconsciously. These patterns do not always serve us well, are often neither rational nor healthy, yet they are what we know."

"So what are you saying? Am I gonna be fighting this for the rest of my life?" Real worry now, seeing continued struggles and dreading future losses, Barney feels realization and fear creeping into his clearing mind.

"I am suggesting that you remember the experience and insight that this day has brought you, and learn from it. You now understand the danger and temptation that you will encounter in times of stress, and there will always be times of stress. These struggles will not end. Disappointments will always be there. Fear, loss, setbacks, all of these triggers will plague you from time to time. It is a plight that every human must confront. Recognizing the danger and the path to old patterns is one key to avoiding them. I don't expect you will find yourself in that particular establishment again."

He smiles, weariness still evident, but his burdens lifted, "No, I won't be going back there."

"Then I suggest you call on Lisa," he offers, "preferably after you've changed into more suitable attire and rid yourself of the decidedly foul stench of your evening's activities."

"OK, thanks Dr. Lecter."

"You are most welcome, Barney. For next week's lessons, I would ask that you acquire a copy of Plato's _Republic_. We will focus on the Allegory of the Cave, which will no doubt resonate with your recent experiences. I also offer my services in helping you find methods to better cope with your anger."

"I'll take you up on that offer, and I'll visit Enoch Pratt tomorrow for the book."

"Then I'll bid you good night, and good luck."

* * *

He knocks, softly, half wishing she won't hear him. When he hears the turning of locks, he develops a sudden interest in the top step of her front stoop. He finds his courage upon the door's opening, greeted by her face. She wears her mask of professionalism now, guarded and wary.

"I'm sorry," it was all he had to offer.

The minutes creep by, a few or an eternity, "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, are you?"

"I will be. Do you want to come in?"

"I do, but I'll understand if you need some time and space. I can come back tomorrow."

"And I'll understand if you don't want to talk about it right now, tonight. But I do want to talk about it soon."

"Me too."

He follows her in, joining her on the sofa. She curls up on his lap, resting her head on his chest, and he sighs deeply, almost at the breaking point, "I thought maybe that I'd lost you."

"Have a little faith, Barney, OK?"

"OK."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – A Common Acquaintance

Barney steps grew more weary and plodding as he inched nearer to the Asylum door, fighting to keep his head high and straight after Friday's fiasco. Thoughts of the weekend keep him going, nights spent in Lisa's arms, parts of the days, too. He chuckles to himself, feeling like a kid coming back to school after a few days of hooky. They had enjoyed simple pleasures, mutually deciding to devote their time to play rather than serious topics. No studying was allowed, no intellectual pursuits. Their outings had consisted of a midnight showing of _Grease_, snowball fights and Barney's creation of quite possibly largest snow Angel ever produced in the greater Baltimore Metropolitan area, and Lisa's first football game, which they both enjoyed in spite of the cold and the Colt's loss to the Chiefs. It had been a welcome break, and put Barney's troubled mind at ease. _Dating a cute shrink comes in handy_. They talked briefly about his troubles, though she didn't push. Her boards were approaching, and then she would have to think about her next move after residency. Neither wanted much to broach that subject just now, either.

He would have to pass Chilton's office, and he did not relish the prospect of more degradation poorly disguised as concern. He'd be stoic, as doctor Lecter suggested, not giving Chilton the satisfaction of seeing him suffer. Barney tries to move past, but Chilton is out the door before he can make it down the corridor.

"Barney, it's good to see you back. No hard feelings about last week, right?"

He offers a stone face, "No, sir, no hard feelings."

"Good, good. I'd hate to lose you. Won't forget what a team player you are."

Before Barney had a chance to get angry, he hears her voice flowing from behind, "Hey, you! I was hoping to catch you before you started shift." She runs to him, turns him around, and pulls his face down to hers for a big wet kiss, "Making sure to give Chilton her eyes, Lisa says, "You don't mind if I steal him for a sec, do you? Gotta take care of my man before he starts his day."

Chilton's utterly dumbfounded expression was priceless, "You two are . . . I mean, I didn't realize . . . " his face reddens, disbelief giving way to a mixture of embarrassment and envy, "you two are an item?"

"Oh, you didn't know? We've been going out for _ages_!" She reaches for Barney's arm, encouraging him to drape it across her petite shoulders, "I had to snatch him up before the nurses and rotating students got their claws into him. All the girls talking about such a _big_ man, and smart, to boot!" The emphasis on big makes Chilton redden even more, a fact she would be certain to relish with Barney later. "Anyway, meet me for coffee before your shift, babe?"

Barney grins wide, "Sure thing. I'll be right down."

He notes the longing and furtive glances Chilton makes in the general direction of her ass as she walks off, and then offers, "If there's nothing else, boss, I think I'll go join my girl now. She sure makes being a team player a whole lot of fun." With that, he walks off without a second glance to Frederick Chilton. God love Lisa Han.

* * *

The Ward was quiet and calm, only interrupted by Elijah's mournful moaning. Barney made a note to himself so he would remember to ask Lisa about his pain management. He felt a small pang when he entered the man's cell, no longer needing to call for backup. Elijah could still drink independently, but the process was slow and laborious. Barney had taken to administering his fluids through a 50 cc syringe. The man had ceased eating several days prior, and the request for funds to insert a feeding tube had not yet been answered. Barney was certain Elijah would die here, but he would not let him die of dehydration. Not even stray animals at the pound suffered that.

He approaches Dr. Lecter's cell, a bit uncomfortable after their last conversation. It wasn't that he didn't trust the doctor's promise to keep his confidence. Strangely, the assurance wasn't necessary, at least as far a Barney was concerned. After all, Dr. Lecter had not shared any details of their unique working relationship with anyone. Honestly, he didn't share much of anything with anyone. No, it was, as the doctor had observed, difficult for Barney to talk about such intensely personal topics. He just didn't want to bring up the subject again.

"Good evening Barney. I trust you had a pleasant weekend?"

"Yes, I did," he shifts uncomfortably, "Thanks."

Maroon eyes survey the man before him, and then blink once before the mouth below offers, "Excellent. Perhaps you would rather being our lessons on Plato next week? I believe that you are entitled to a healthy respite from your studies. A well-earned break?"

He isn't sure if the 'break' to which the doctor was referring had to do with the events of the past week, the likelihood of Barney's demanding hospice care for Elijah, or the doctor's own agenda. He is, however, relieved that the subject of their last conversation appears to be closed.

"That would do for me. Do you need anything?'

"Other than these books and photocopies of the articles listed, ask Dr. Han about those, I have what I require. Thank you, Barney," he says, delivering the list through the food carrier. "By the way, as the rather inadequate budget afforded this institution appears to have failed our friend Elijah, perhaps you could offer him electrolytes and supplemental nutrition with his fluids? I provided a recipe along with my list. They will not reverse his condition, of course. I seriously doubt even a feeding tube could at this point. They should, however, make him more comfortable."

"Thanks, Dr. Lecter. I'll see that he gets them."

* * *

Upon finishing his shift, Barney begins his walk home with a brisk pace to stave off the cold. He registers the sleek lines of the Bentley immediately, out of place in this part of town. Thinking the driver must be lost, and no doubt suffering the irritation of the fat cat in the back, Barney squares his shoulders and continues on the sidewalk toward the vehicle. He laughs to himself, imaging the misplaced fear his imposing form must be inspiring inside the vehicle, too amused to be offended.

As he walks past and begins to turn the corner, he hears from behind, "Mr. Jackson?"

_What the hell?_ He turns, registering the voice is coming from the expensive vehicle, and remains still.

"No need to be alarmed, Mr. Jackson. My employer would like a word with you. Perhaps we can offer you a warm ride on this cold day?" The affable face below an honest-to-god chauffeur's hat seemed harmless, but he still approaches with caution.

"Do I know you?"

Smiling, he says, "No, but you and the boss have an acquaintance in common. No worries, OK? Just a quick chat and we'll drop you off. We can make it worth your while."

Barney isn't the sort of man to be easily swayed, but the wad of cash flashed in the gloved fist of the driver catches his attention, "Just a ride and a chat, huh?"

"For now. You can decide if you want to do business after you hear the offer."

Barney is so dumbfounded at the site of the "boss" that he easily glides into the adjacent seat, and the car drives off into the early morning of the city.

* * *

Greetings all! I hope ya'll enjoy this latest chapter, my gift to you all as I celebrate my birthday

Messing with Chilton – what can I say? It's a fun hobby!

The football reference, my feeble homage to the Super Bowl (I don't really follow football – watched the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet instead - but couldn't resist) comes courtesy of a Wiki search – the Baltimore Colts lost to the Kansas City Chiefs on December 9, 1979, and the Colts were indeed playing in the doctor's city rather than in Indianapolis back in those days.

More fun plot twists to come . . . so stay tuned!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – The Advance

Barney had spent the past few weeks mulling over the unusual "business proposition" offered him. Fortunately, he had also been so busy with Elijah's care and stealing time with Lisa, he had not been subject to any lengthy interactions with Dr. Lecter. He couldn't risk the doctor's scrutiny, as he could scarcely hope to hide something this big and avoid the probing questions that would surely follow. Should he guess what Barney was contemplating, the risk, well . . . _Best just not go there_. It was eerie, though, walking past the doctor's cell and, risking a glance to find him in quiet repose, apparently lost in his own thoughts. _What does he do in that head for so long?_

As he walks to meet Lisa for his lunch, her dinner, he feels his belly knives plunging over his current dilemma. Duty or money? Losing his job, shitty as it is, but with a healthy cushion? Betrayal of the law, his conscience, and quite possibly the doctor's health and well being, not to mention . . . but the money, oh how he could use the money. He pushes the decision aside and focuses instead on how best to spend the rest of his advance. He already had plans for his girl, who floats into view now from the sea of faded aquamarine cinderblock that added a little color to the cavernous upper ward.

"Hey," gentle kiss on a massive chin, reached on toe tips, "how's Elijah? I have some news."

"It won't be long, now," he trails off.

"Hey, this is really getting to you, isn't it?" She offers her hand and leads them to the nearby stairwell, as is her custom when she wants his eyes level with hers in conversation. Somehow she always managed to accommodate their differences in stature in a way that made neither feel uncomfortable and both feel equitable.

He sighs heavily, but doesn't avoid her gaze. "He's just a nobody here, another crazy brother from the streets, another wasted life. Too many of us, young and old, you know, just thrown away. I've seen it a lot, but it still gets to me sometimes."

"Is that why you joined the Panthers?"

"Yeah," he offers, a little out of his comfort zone now, "I mean, we got stuck after the 60's. We could ride the at the front of the bus and sit at the counter, go to school with white kids if you could afford to live in their 'hood, but that didn't stop them from keeping us down. After Malcolm and King, after all the shit in 'Nam, I was a pretty angry brother. Cleavers and the Panthers channeled that anger and gave it a purpose, at least I thought so at the time."

"What changed your mind?"

"When I realized they were just using me for my muscle, just like the good ole' U.S. Marine Corps did, just like the old slave masters used the field hands. That, and I didn't want to end up in prison for the rest of my days . . ." he trailed off again. He had spoken to her briefly of his prior, but didn't elaborate and wasn't ready to as yet.

Her eyes keep his, offering no judgment or censure, "Maybe that's why you feel so concerned for Elijah."

He nods, "I guess I see in him what could have been, on some level, if I hadn't made a break and gotten on a different path."

She reaches for him, bringing her hand to his face, fingers caressing his cheek and thumb whispering softly over his lips, "I'm glad you found another path, and I'm even more pleased that it helped bring you to me," soft kiss, then she gasps, "Oh, I almost forgot," she pulls out a sheet of paper with her barely legible left-handed scrawl, "I was able to track gown some of Elijah's family. He has a daughter and grandson here in Baltimore."

"Did you get in touch? Tell them he's almost gone?"

"I did call . . . " she sighs, heavily, "she says she'll come to see him, but I think there must be some bad blood between them."

"Why? Is it because of what he did to wind up here?"

"I get the impression that they've been estranged for a while. She sounded sad to hear about his condition, though," Lisa considers, torn between her patient's best interest and that of her lover, "I thought maybe you would like to be there when she comes tomorrow afternoon. I mean, I don't want to put you on the spot, but I think she might feel better with you there and may be more willing to talk to you. I know how you've been feeling about Elijah, not being able to reach him or give him any kind of comfort, so maybe this will help you, too."

He smiles at his girl, as pleased with her hesitation as he is with her thought. She is a good therapist, no doubt, but with him she's still just a woman trying to figure out how her man's heart and mind works. The fact that she isn't always sure makes them even, and he likes that. "I'll be there."

She smiles now, "And I'll be there, too, for you."

"Thanks, baby girl," he kisses her lightly, and she reciprocates with a teasing tongue over his lower lip as her hand travels up his thigh, "hey now!"

"What? No one's looking." Her smile was pure devilry.

"Hold that thought," he grins, "I'm treating you to a night out on the town tomorrow," he pulls out a couple of opera tickets, orchestra row center, and her eyes widen, "Barney! How did you get these? They must have cost a lot! And what on earth am I going to wear?"

"I guess we'll have to go shopping," he laughs off her concern, "just be sure you get something to match these," he pulls a small box from his pocket, placing it into her palm.

Her eyes widen, and she opens the box to reveal a sapphire pendant set in white gold, with matching earrings, "Barney, they are just beautiful, but how did you . . ." she trails off, knowing the subject is uncomfortable, but she must press him, "how on earth did you afford all of this?"

Again, he's pleased with her caution, and he hopes that his calm response will please and reassure her, "I've been saving for a rainy day, and I have a few other irons in the fire. Don't worry, just enjoy them."

"Barney, I appreciate all of this, you know that, but you don't have to go out on a limb financially to please me."

"I'm not going out on a limb," he tells her, and she sees honesty in his eyes and demeanor, "and I haven't been running drugs or guns to get the cash," he jokes, making her blush. "But dinner's on you." Her absolute insistence on going Dutch had perplexed him when they first began dating, but he knows how important it is that she feels equal.

She smiles broadly and kisses him once more, "And I promise I'll find some nice ways to say thank you after."

"I'm counting on it."

"Seriously, though, where did you get the money? Between the job and classes, how have you had time?"

"Let's just say I'm working off an advance for some potential consulting work," he keeps his tone light in an effort to keep her from digging any deeper. He didn't like to keep secrets from her, but he refused to let her have any part of this venture. Should it go south, he wouldn't have her harmed because of it. "I may take the job later, but it shouldn't take up too much time."

Rather than press him, Lisa places her trust in Barney and agrees to take some time after work and to pamper herself with a new dress and a trip to the salon. He asks her to pick up his tuxedo along the way, specially tailored to accommodate his massive frame, and looks forward to their special night with only faint misgivings regarding their benefactor. _I can still say no. I can take the advance and leave it at that. I can still say no._ Money is and would long be a temptation for Barnaby Jackson, however, and said benefactor read him well enough to offer a tantalizing morsel that would surely bring him back for more.


	15. Chapter 15

Hi all!

I wasn't going to post this one until next week . . . but I was able to get around to edits while my sick toddler was watching _WALL-E_. Tangent – did you know there's actually a _WALL-E_ fandom on this site, with over 200 fics (and 130 for _Finding Nemo_, as another example)? WTF??!!?? Nothing against cartoons, really, but perhaps I wouldn't be so perplexed had I not been subjected to Disney Pixar ad nauseum for the past 5 years. It's almost as disturbing as finding out that all of the fics for _Real Genius_ are slash. God, I really must shower after that thought. Anyway, enough digression – just please dear lord in heaven above just don't let me find anything related to _Sponge Bob_ or my f-ing head might explode. OK, now that I'm done with my Lewis Black-style tirade, on with the show . . .

Chapter 15 – Pressure's On

As excited as he is about taking Lisa to the opera, their first really fancy date, he feels uncomfortable as they stroll outside The Lyric Opera House. He is used to stares, his stature and somewhat unusual features always attract attention. He has even grown accustomed to the attention he and his lady attract. But he is out of his element, in the company of Baltimore's elite, a homogenous blend of stuck up WASPs as far as Barney can tell, in which the unusual pair really stand out. Lisa feels it, too, though he is now at least secure enough to understand her trepidation has nothing to do with him. She is an outsider here, too. Together, they brave the crowd.

"You look beautiful, you know," he says. She is wears a simple blue sheath dress, her sapphires the perfect compliment. He knows she left her hair down for him, forgoing the customary up do because he loves the way her dark hair catches the light as she moves, cascading in waves.

"You've told me that at least a dozen times," she teases, squeezing his hand, "but you can keep telling me. I have to say, I like _you_ in a monkey suit."

"Don't get used to it," he teases back, "but it's really not that bad. I thought it would feel stranger, but the tailor I used knows his business."

"Well, I think you look great, handsome, sophisticated," he laughs out loud at that, "What? You really do."

"Never thought I would hear anyone say that about a guy like me," he chuckles, "but I'm glad you think so."

"Barney," she stares straight up into his eyes, "I'm delighted to be here _with you_, proud to be here _with you_, and I want you to remember that whenever you get nervous around all these stuffy rich people."

"Only if you do, too."

She smiles, and they enter the building, hand in hand. There are looks, of course, and not many of them approving. Whispers, too. But when they enter the performance hall, both are so enchanted with the space and anticipation of the performance that all outside interference slowly dissolves. The lights are low, casting shadows along the arched walls as patrons find their seats, cultured voices echoing, the sounds floating up to the ceiling. He chances a glance at his lady, radiant in the half-light, and convinces himself that at least half of the stares come from covetous eyes, wishing for her company and wondering how on earth the large man beside her earned that privilege. He finds his calm with that thought, and holds his head high, giving his already otherworldly appearance a touch of regality, though he would not believe it had he been told.

They find their seats, and Barney entertains Lisa with the plot summary, having researched it before purchasing the tickets. He pushes aside his belly knives, remembering the source from which he gathered most of this information. The one time he dared to speak to the doctor for more than a few moments in the past weeks had been to ask about the subject of tonight's performance, and opera in general. Oddly, Dr. Lecter didn't push him for any details regarding his interest in the opera, nor did he press Barney to disclose the secret he held, though Barney was sure that the doctor must realize that he's hiding something. He senses everything. The lack of pressure on his end disturbed Barney almost as much as the dilemma itself.

"Barney?" Her voice brings him back, "Hey, where are you tonight?"

"Sorry babe," he says, "I'm right here, with you."

"Are you going to tell me what weighs so heavy?"

"What?"

"Come on," she gives him the look, "something's been on your mind for weeks now. I don't want to pry if you don't want to talk right now, but after last time . . ." she looks down, "I just want you to feel like you can talk to me."

"I do," he lifts her chin, "I promise, nothing like that day is going to happen again between us. It's not a big deal. I'm just trying to decide if I'm going to take that side job. I just need to let it stew and see if it's right, you know, if I have time. Now, do you want to hear about Donizetti or not?"

She smiles and decides to drop it, for now, and listens to Barney run down _L'elisir d'amore_, looking forward to hearing the aria that seems so important to him. They both enjoy the amusing and melodramatic performance, having decided that the somewhat stuffy genre lends itself well to comedy. When she hears the haunting notes of _Una furtiva lagrima_, following the libretto's translation from the program, she places her head on Barney's chest, and he is pleased. The music, the performance, the ambiance, it all weave a magical cocoon around the two outsiders.

After the performance, Lisa is elated to run into a fellow resident in the lobby. Following polite introductions, Barney excuses himself for some fresh air, promising to meet Lisa outside. He walks a bit, pleased with the evening's progress and looking forward to his next surprise. A luxury suite should sustain the evening's magic, and it beat the hell out of spending the night in his shit hole of an apartment. He just rounds the corner when his knives hit him full in the gut. The Bentley intercepts him, chauffeur beckoning him over.

"Hello, Mr. Jackson," he says, tipping his hat, "I hope you enjoyed the performance. Nice tux, too. I see you put your advance to good use."

"Hey man, I'm kind of in the middle of something here, I should really get back . . ." he looks over his shoulder, then adds, "I'm still thinking about the offer. Tell the boss I'll be in touch later."

"Why don't you hop in for just a quick sec? I'm sure Dr. Han will wait. Women, my how they chat," he's still smiling. Barney isn't smiling anymore.

"What the fuck? You been trailin' me? Messing with my personal business?" Barney keeps his voice down, but can't keep the anger out of it.

The driver holds up an open palms, "Now don't get upset, Mr. Jackson. The boss always checks up on potential associates. That's just smart business. Seeing how you spent the advance made an impression. Shows us that you have class. Just give it a think, OK? More nights out with that pretty lady, a chance to finish your education –"

He cuts off the driver, "You can leave my lady out of it. This has nothing to do with her, all right? You and the boss have nothing to do with her."

At this point, the back door opens, and Barney is compelled to enter the vehicle. Five minutes find him back outside, his pockets heavy, his heart no lighter, not to mention his head. He puts away his misgivings, determined to enjoy the rest of his evening with Lisa.

* * *

Barney rests, leaning against a stack of very comfortable pillows on the luxurious bed of their suite, his breathing still labored after exorcising his demons through some rather primal therapy. He is delighted with the king sized bed, fitting his mass comfortably with room to spare. Lisa recovers on her own, invigorated by their lovemaking, but still vaguely concerned about Barney's state of mind. She decides not to press just yet, rather offering comfort in the form of enjoying all that he has provided this evening. She realizes that he needs to provide, to give her things that he imagines a treasured woman would want from a man. Had you asked her a year ago, she would have scoffed at the notion. Having fought against tradition for so long, she is every bit the independent woman of the burgeoning decade, product of the sexual revolution and determined to make her own way. It would have pained her to admit that she really needed Barney, with his outdated notions of gender roles, his big black man bravado. But, need him and want him she does, and so she follows her nature and compromises, bending her course around the particularly stubborn bend where the river of her personality intersects with his rocky barrier.

He ponders the offer before him with more clarity, weighing pros and cons again. He doesn't want to break the law, not necessarily for reasons of conscience, rather to never again be subjected to prison. _Prison for so long, the man must be in hell._ What the boss had cooking could be a blessing or a curse, for both of them. He's pretty sure the boss could cover him, with that much cash and connections, but could he trust? Barney is also conflicted regarding his loyalty to a man like Dr. Lecter. Truth be told, he owed the man a lot, but that didn't automatically grant such a creature a blank check from the universal bank of trust, either. Barney had researched his charge as well, which left him even more conflicted. Such is the enigma of Hannibal Lecter. He suspects the doctor would enjoy that immensely. He would put out some feelers with the good doctor, and then decide. A dangerous game, but perhaps well worth the effort, judging from the second advance lining his wallet.

* * *

Donizetti's _L'elisir d'amore_ (The Elixir of Love) is one of the few operas that I've actually seen live. Not really a big fan (sorry doc) of a genre that takes itself that seriously. But, being a comic opera, I actually enjoyed it. I thought Barney and Lisa might, too, and that it would fit nicely into the theme of my fic. Nemorino, a peasant, seeks to win the heart of Adina, a wealthy chick way out of his league. According to Wiki, _Una furtiva lagrima_ (One Furtive Tear) is one of the more famous arias.

The thought of Barney and Lisa at the opera in the late '70s, less than 20 years after the American Civil Rights Movement gave them the legal right to be there, made me smile


	16. Chapter 16

OK – I promise PROMISE that the mystery will be revealed soon. Just gotta get the setup right, and take care of a few more plot elements before we take this little detour. The heart of the story remains Barney's growth under Hannibal Lecter's mentorship, but naturally Barney in his younger years lacks an older man's self control. He's well on his way to developing his trademark poker face, but he also is naturally curious about his unique tutor. Wouldn't you be, at least with the benefit of the bars?

Acknowledgment: A Big HUGE thanks to Aldus Mischa S. for help with Argentine Spanish and for correcting my very rusty (read abysmal) general Spanish! Muchas gracias! Great dialogue, and thanks for the beta read!

Chapter 16 – Feelers

Monday evenings are always tough when Barney has the benefit of a free weekend. Things are at least a little better with more reliable help watching Alonzo the first. He laughs inside as he spots Alonzo "the second" Suarez, young, green, scared shitless, and fresh from Argentina. The Jims got an earful when they teased him about being a wetback. He likes the boy already.

"Hey my man? How'd your first few days go?" Barney hopes to build a nice working relationship with the new guy. He knows at least one of the Violent Ward's occupants can smell fear, but this dude reeks of it. That won't help keep the calm.

"OK," he looks at the ground, nervous around the larger man, his accent heavier with the nerves, "I take care of everything on the list, I give Elijah his liquids and meds, change him twice a day, give the candy bars on Saturday night like you ask when they all are quiet, except for . . . " He started out with a little confidence, but faltered at the end. Barney sighs on the inside. _Gonna take some work._

"Look, you did good, alright?" Barney waits until he gets eye contact and continues, "This place ain't easy, especially the first week. I remember. As for Dr. Lecter, don't worry. He doesn't care for candy bars anyway. Just steer clear until I take you through protocol."

"_Me va a mandar al loquero antes de tiempo,_" under his breath, "Yes, Mr. Jackson," he then offers, eager to please, "you will be right there, right?"

"It's Barney, and yes. No one ever goes in alone with any of the patients. I'm normally in charge of the doctor, but as long as you have the Jims, you have the clear. I should warn you about Jones," Barney turns to the stack of papers at the orderly's station, moving the mail to the cart, "give me a hand with that, would you?"

"Yes," he lifts a stack. Barney is pleased to note the removal of all sharps.

"Jones is on something most of the time, you know, some drugs. He can still handle the little jobs, but if something comes up and I'm not here, you wait and call one of the Jim's or Marlow upstairs, you got it?"

Alonzo nods his understanding, and the two begin mail delivery. Barney asks, "You learn to dodge Miggs?"

Alonzo makes a face, "_Un loco de mierda_," then grins in response to Barney's baby-toothed grin, "I can bend over."

Barney snorted at that, "Man, your English is pretty good, but I'm gonna have to teach you street! Don't _ever_ say 'bend over' in here, man! Say 'duck.' "

Alonzo looks confused for a moment, then turns red and laughs, "Oh, yeah, _boludo_ - _no NO soy boludo_!"

"Right, bow-lew-dow," Alonzo grins at his terrible accent, instantly at ease with Barney, who continues, "come on, let's deliver the mail and I'll introduce you to Dr. Lecter."

Alonzo's grin disappears, "_El Diablo_!" He crosses himself, "He has the demon eyes. No, I don't meet him. I do my job, but I don't talk with the demon."

Barney channels his inner Drill Instructor, determined to get Alonzo the second to man up, "Hey, look sharp my man!" Alonzo snaps to attention, "All the men in here did some serious shit to wind up on this ward, but they're all _men_, you understand? No demons or monsters or boogeymen here, just some crazy fuckers and, well . . . they're all men, anyway. I'll take you through the drill, but you gotta get all that superstitious shit out of your head now. It'll make you fuck up, and you do _not_ want to do that in here. It's a job, it ain't personal. Now with Dr. Lecter, you have to remember two things: Don't ever turn your back or let your guard down, and always be civil, be courteous, understand?" Alonzo nods, "You do that, you'll be alright. No more of this el dia-bow-low shit, OK? Now let's get going."

They make the rounds, coming to Dr. Lecter's cell at last. Barney signals for Alonzo Suarez to stay back as he approaches the bars, "Good evening, Dr. Lecter."

The doctor, bent over a letter in progress, looks up and politely says, "Good evening, Barney. I trust you had a pleasant weekend?"

"I did, thank you for asking. Doctor, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Alonzo Suarez, a new orderly on the ward. He'll be helping on my off days and sometimes when I'm here. Alonzo, meet Dr. Lecter."

"_Buenas tardes, señor Suzarez,"_ he offers his widest smile, eliciting a wide-eyed response from the young man at Barney's side, "_¿Qué vamos a comer esta noche?_"

Barney isn't sure what the doctor said, but he isn't pleased to see that Alozno's fear. At least he has the courage to place the first stack of mail into the food carrier before he backs away, muttering "_Usted no va a comer filete de carne humana esta noche, Dr. Lecter!_"

Barney frowns, though Dr. Lecter maintains his deceptively calm and pleasant exterior, "Oh Barney, you seem to have lost your sense of humor of late. I naturally overheard your well-rehearsed motivational speech, and decided to follow suit. We must break the boy in properly."

"Look, doctor, I'll make sure he follows protocol and that he treats you well. You need to keep your end of the bargain by behaving, OK? He's a good kid, not like Jones. We need better staff around this place."

"On that point I agree. Isn't it interesting, though, how you've taken the young man under your wing? You've already helped him enroll in courses to improve his English?"

"Yes. He seems eager to learn, and like I said, he's a good kid."

"Going into the darkness of the cave to spread the word, Glaucon?"

"I was lucky enough to be unchained," he smiles, "I think I owe it to myself and to my brothers to give something back."

"You owe nothing to anyone, though I'm sure Socrates would approve. Heed Plato's warning, however, as you return to the cave. Most are not ready to leave the comfort of their shadows for the harsh light of the sun."

Barney continues to send through the doctor's correspondence, giving him an excuse not to look the man in the eyes, "I guess I'm lucky you knew I was ready. Most everyone else you've encountered hasn't fared as well."

Silence, and Barney waits to see if he's crossed the line. More silence, and he finally looks up at the doctor.

"Well Barney, I must confess I was expecting this conversation sooner, though I believe your courtesy and street smarts kept you from broaching the subject until now. Am I correct?"

"Something like that . . ." he trails off. Barney braves the doctor's scrutiny, but offers nothing other than a casual, conversational tone. "But I am curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he smiles.

"Well, I don't know if satisfaction brought it back or not. I'm a dog person."

He does not laugh, but maintains his wicked grin, "I'll offer this and nothing more. Whenever possible, I prefer to eat the rude. Free-range rude."

"I'll mind my manners."

"That's good, Barney," he purrs, "speaking of manners, you must tell me when you are ready to resume your lessons. I would hate to think that you've been sliding back into old habits."

"No, I've just been busy with some other opportunities."

If he was waiting for elaboration, he didn't show it, "When your duties permit you the time, perhaps you would care to discuss genetics. If memory serves, this course follows Introductory Biology?"

"Yes, doctor. I could use the input."

"Excellent. Better get back to Elijah and your young protégé."

"I'll swing by later with some coffee."

Back at the orderly's station, Barney tells Alonzo not to fret about the doctor. They finish their rounds, as Barney's mind begins to devise his plan, having decided to take the boss's offer after all.

* * *

Notes on Spanish – You can probably figure it out by context, but for clarification:

Alonzo thinks that working around Dr. Lecter might drive him to the looney bin.

He's not too fond of Miggs, either.

He gets Barney's "bend over" vocabulary lesson and affirms his heterosexual status.

He thinks Dr. Lecter is the devil.

Dr. Lecter, being Dr. Lecter, decides to ask him what's for dinner this evening.

Alonzo responds (under his breath) that it won't be human flesh.

Alonzo Suarez is here for a few reasons. First, I realized when I read SOTL that the Alonzo encountered by Clarice Starling is nothing like Alonzo Jones – I wrote Alonzo Jones anyway for fun, and because his foul mouth makes me laugh. But in keeping with canon, we need another Alonzo who won't be killed off by a crack habit. It also seems fitting to have someone from Argentina on the doctor's radar. Second, Barney needs some more friends, as well as an opportunity to share some of his newfound knowledge. Finally, well, that's just where my muse took me. Blame her!

Plato's _Republic_ features the Allegory of the Cave, in which Socrates, Plato's mentor, explains the role of philosopher in society to Plato's brother, Glaucon, as well as "our nature in its education and want of education" (Wiki).


	17. Chapter 17

Last setup chapter. Next one to follow soon (seriously, it's in edits) with the answers

Thanks, Jewel, for the bowling idea! I loved it so much I included it.

Chapter 17 – Plans

It is Wednesday evening and the Asylum is buzzing with excitement as news of Friday's black-tie fundraiser filters from Chilton's office. The physicians and nursing staff are invited, of course. Many of the orderlies and cleaning staff have been offered generous bonuses if they agree to work the party. Barnaby Jackson is in charge of keeping order for all of the lower wards, for a hefty bonus. He is pleased.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" she asks, for the fifth time, "I have a really great dress."

"Baby, it's just not my thing. You go and have fun, work the room, get some cash for all of those enrichment programs you want to try," he smiles, "all I want is to see you Saturday night, out of that really great dress."

"Fine, I'll go stag," Lisa sighs, "at least I don't have to worry about Chilton hitting me up to be his date anymore."

"Oh?" Barney's curiosity is piqued, though he's relieved to know that Chilton is leaving her alone.

"You didn't hear? Some dowdy record-keeper on temp staff is going with him. I can't remember her last name. Poor thing is just beside herself at the thought of dancing with 'Freddy' at the ball."

Barney isn't sure if Chilton landing a date was coincidence, or part of the boss's influence. He would be more surprised by the former.

"Hmm, all that cash he can pocket from the suits and a nice piece of . . . tail should put him in a good mood."

She makes a disgusted face, and laughs, "Nice save, hon!"

"What? Gettin' some always puts a man in a better mood," he laughs back, "does for me anyhow."

"Well, I don't think Chilton should get his hopes up. This one seems like a Jesus freak. She probably won't throw back the drinks she would need to go through with it, even if she was so inclined. Are you on your own that night, or is Suarez going to be helping?"

"Nah, I can handle the night shift on my own. I'm sending him bowling with the Jims. If Jones shows up I'll send him, too."

She goes quiet for a moment, and he waits. "I know what you're up to."

Barney is grateful for the Marine training and his recent practice at keeping a poker face, though his heart starts racing and his gut clenches, "Up to?"

"Yes, up to. Empty Ward, just you on the floor, everyone gone to the party."

"Hey, I told you I wasn't all about the fundraiser, and I am getting overtime for once."

"And you'll have the doctor all to yourself."

_Shit, shit, SHIT!_ "He'll behave, and the others will be asleep. What's this all about, baby?"

She sighs, "Barney, I know he's been helping out with your studies. Now don't give me that look, I'm the only one who knows and I'm not going to say anything. It's good that he's lending you his mind, though you've studied enough now that I don't think you need him so much."

"How'd you find out?"

"I'm your girlfriend, I've been to your place, seen your books and papers and some interesting handwriting in the margins," she grins, "I didn't think it was a coincidence that you took me to the opera. I just don't want him playing you, using you to do any more damage than he's already done."

"Yeah, well, I don't compromise on security, ever." _At least not yet_.

"I know you don't. But I want you to be careful with him. He seems so normal, so rational, but you know he's a killer."

"Yeah," a little more irritated than she might have expected, "I remember having to hold you back when you came to fix him up the second time we met."

"Exactly! But listen, Barney, when someone like that starts to get friendly, someone who knows how to work people and manipulate, you just have to be on your guard. That's all I'm saying. I don't want you to get hurt or worse."

"He ain't 'friendly.' I know what I'm doing. Security is separate from conversation. Always has been. Besides, I've been looking out for him, too."

"And you expect gratitude for that? From a psychopath? It won't stop him from killing you if he gets the chance."

"Look, I don't know about all of those shrink labels, but I do know how dangerous Dr. Lecter is, and I also know how much he values courtesy and a fair trade. Quid pro quo. As long as I stay polite and keep security tight, everyone will be O.K."

She drops the discussion for the moment and they enjoy dinner in companionable silence. She kisses him as she leaves, noticing his brow, furrowed in deep concentration. He watches her leave, her words and warning driving his belly knives deeper. It's too late the call this off. He ignores his guilt and confusion, and continues making his plans.


	18. Chapter 18

Without further ado . . .

Chapter 18 – Who's the Boss?

Friday night, and the Asylum is all but deserted, thanks to the boss's fund-raising soiree across town. After checking the Ward for the fifth time to ensure the absence of staff, and the delivering a second round of sugary treats and soda to placate the other inmates, Barney moves quickly to the doctor's cell, depositing the mask and restraints into his food tray. The doctor stares impassively, and Barney struggles with his frustration. He can't risk speaking freely. Even loonies talk. He grabs a pen and paper, jotting a quick note before returning to the cell. The doctor remains still as stone, giving no outward appearance of interest in this disruption of the normally dull nocturnal routine. Barney holds up the note.

_You have a visitor._

The doctor quirks an eyebrow, looking from the page to Barney. His gaze remains on Barney as he politely waits for elaboration. Exasperated, Barney scribbles below the first line and holds the paper in front of the cell again, glancing around to make certain the occupants in the adjacent cells were still busily gorging on treats. He doesn't know how many can actually read, but he isn't taking any chances.

_Visitor waiting in gym. Please put on restraints and I'll take you. Need to move fast._

Upon reading the note, the doctor maintains his stance, quietly demanding further elaboration. Barney, for the first time in their acquaintance, has the audacity to give the doctor a roll of his eyes before scribbling yet another note.

_Last chance. She's waiting and we don't have all night. Trust me. Bundle up and let's go!_

The look that escaped from the doctor's mask is priceless, and Barney smiles as he pulls the food carrier through and begins to don the restraints. By the time Barney retrieves the hand truck, the doctor is dressed and ready.

Barney speaks in a rushed whisper as they make their way through the darkened corridors, "OK, here's the deal. You get until just before sunrise, unless I spot Alonzo or someone else coming. I only agreed to this because she said you'd behave. She's pretty pushy. Don't prove her wrong and make us both sorry. Security rules still apply. When I knock, you get dressed and bundled back up double quick and we're out of there. I'll make sure she gets out without any trouble. I won't be too far, but I won't be too close, either, understand?"

The doctor nods as Barney continues to the gym door. He turns the hand truck so that he and the doctor stand face to face after Barney bends down. "I want you to understand, now, we get caught, that's it. I'm gone for sure and you'll face some pretty bad consequences. I won't be there to keep the goons off you, or whatever else Chilton cooks up. Same goes if you hurt her. I'm trusting you, Dr. Lecter," then, not being able to resist, Barney offers him a wide grin, "she'll wait behind the partition until you get yourself unbundled. Have a nice time." With that, he unlocks the door and wheels the doctor in. While unfastening the straps securing Dr. Lecter to the hand truck, Barney speaks to the person behind the partition, "Please wait until he gets himself undone. Shouldn't take too long. I'll be patrolling to make sure no on knows you're here. Bang on the door three times, loud, and I'll hear you. Otherwise, I'll be back just before sunrise."

When Barney closes, the door, the doctor remains very still, allowing his keen senses to report to his keener mind. Blocking out the aromas of stale sweat, poorly masked by industrial disinfectant, he sighs with utter appreciation and undisguised pleasure as the scents of caviar, _foie gras_, and Artisan bread and cheese fill his long-deprived olfactory system. Another layer, sweet and warm, _Château d'Yquem_, and his eyes close as he savors the intoxicating and delicious aromas, allowing them to fill him completely. Remembering himself, he works his way out of the straight jacket while he enjoys the pleasant elements of his surroundings, only speaking after he removes the mask and allows her subtle perfume to fill his senses. "Good evening, Rachel."

"And to you, Hannibal," his eyes still closed, capturing scent after scent in his Memory Palace to savor again over long nights yet to come, he tracks her movements by the sound of her voice, a little lower than he remembers. She still smokes, but has foregone that indulgence tonight in deference to his exquisitely sensitive nose. "May I offer you some wine? I do wish that I had been able to find a rarer vintage, but on such short notice one has to make due."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. I shall be most pleased to accept." He opens his eyes only when he senses the glass held under his nose. _How thoughtful, to bring stemware._ His eyes already adjusted to the darkness, he takes in his companion's face. The years have been kind. She carries the same beauty and grace that he remembers, her countenance further tempered with a small trace of sadness, a weariness that he finds captivating. He offers her a warm smile, before taking a sip, holding it in his mouth to savor the incredible flavors dancing on his tongue. She lights a few candles and places them along the bolted benches, away from the door, creating as much elegance as possible in such surroundings.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, savoring fine food, wine, and one another's presence, until Rachel breaks the silence, providing a lively synopsis of Baltimore society scandals, marriages, births, deaths, and the state of the symphony. The doctor listens attentively, enjoying her animated conversation as he enjoys his first decent meal in years. The conversation flows, along with the wine, and a few hours pass with the participants seemingly unaware, as if time is no matter.

When she ceases to speak, he takes a long breath, gives her his eyes, and says, "It was good of you to come, Rachel."

She looks away, and he allows it, "I'm sorry I couldn't . . . visit before. It was all too much, and –"

Sensing her distress, he places one hand over hers, their first physical contact of the evening, and brings his other to her lips, "Shh . . . there is no need to dwell on such subjects right now. I am certain we can discuss more pleasant matters, such as your recent engagement?" His eyes twinkle, though he notes the conspicuous absence of a ring on her left hand, "I read of it in the society pages, of course. You certainly landed quite a catch."

She offers a mischievous smile, "Yes, I believe I caused quite a stir amongst the gold-digger's club when I captured the most eligible bachelor in three seasons," a note of sadness returns to her face, "though I must confess that the thrill of the chase was lost for me years ago."

"Possibly you'll find other thrills, or at the very least, a measure of security and comfort?"

"Hannibal, you cannot know . . . had circumstances been different . . . perhaps –"

"Perhaps."

"We had some wonderful times, didn't we?"

"Yes."

"I just wanted one more chance . . ."

"Yes?"

"To thank you, for everything . . . for the gifts, the notes, even after . . . " she pauses again, and then moves toward him as she whispers, "for this." He savors her kiss, adding another sensual note to the symphony of the evening's delights and responding in kind to her lips and tongue. They do not rush, thoroughly engrossed in the moment of physical re-acquaintance. Her fingers explore his scalp, gently caressing strands of graying hair and falling to his neck. How long had it been since anyone touched him, other than with impersonal, clinical detachment, or worse, contempt and abuse? She knows now the things of which he is capable. _What an odd sensation, intimacy with someone who knew me before, and after?_ Of course, she believes that she is safe. She knows as well as anyone his penchant for courtesy. With Barney on alert and without the benefit of handcuffs upon his departure, the situation is not conducive to escape. And, aside from an all-to-brief encounter with a rare and enchanting young patient helper several years ago, his opportunities for shared intimacy had, of course, been eliminated by incarceration. His mind settles on the opportunities at hand, and he has every intention of taking them into his very capable hands. _How best to proceed . . . an old game, perhaps? As the proverb goes, treat the courtesan as a duchess, and the duchess as, well . . . _

His lips slowly leave hers, and she opens her eyes and offers a languid smile. "So, am I your proverbial 'wild oat' to sow before holy matrimony?" he asks, eyes following his trailing fingertips down her shoulder, over her collarbone, gently over the swell of her breast, exposed by the generous cut of her bodice. She closes her eyes and sighs, shifting to invite more contact and shuddering as he grazes her nipple, briefly teasing it before retracting his hand.

"Yes," she frowns, "no," eyes closed again, searching for a way to convey thoughts and feelings with which she is not entirely comfortable, "I wanted to see you, one more time . . . Oh, I simply can't stand the thought of you in this terrible place –"

He cuts her off, eyes devoid of warmth at her sentiment, "I do not need your pity, Ms. Duberry, nor do I require a comfort fuck –"

"There is no need to be callous or coarse with me, Hannibal Lecter," her eyes aflame, color rising in her cheeks, quite alluring in her anger, though her companion manages to hide his amusement at her petulance, "I feel no pity for you."

"Then what is it that you feel? Did you come here out of obligation? Do you want my blessing, for me to wish you well as you claim your latest conquest?" He leans in, the rasp in his voice more pronounced, gaze intense, "He is rich, of course, and must possess some degree of breeding and refinement, otherwise you would not have him," He moves closer from across the bench they shared, until her back is pinned to the wall. They both straddle the bench as he presses closer. "He appears to be at least moderately handsome from the grainy photographs provided by the papers, so what is it that he lacks, dear Rachel?" The last words whispered in her ear, his breath on her cheek, his body close enough to feel the heat of hers. He inches his face away so as to savor her reaction.

He watches her indignation and no small measure of fear, battle with desire. In his broad experience with women of Rachel Duberry's social standing, this approach always worked quite well. Begin gently, with tenderness and understanding, give a little taste of the sensual. Then shift tactics, a cold shoulder and a hint of challenge, a small slice of indifference, a taste of danger . . . _Yes, that should do_ . . . inching closer, "Well, Rachel," he hisses, "tell me, what is it that you want?" Pressed against her body, close enough to feel her heart racing, taking in the scent of her desire and the sight of her arousal.

"I want _you_, right here, right now," she hisses back before making her play. Offering a feline smile, she purrs as she reaches out and fondles his member through the thin fabric of his Asylum garb, reveling in the manifestation of his arousal, "and it appears that you might be in need of a nice fuck after all, mmmm?"

A small gasp escapes his lips before he forces his concentration to return, baring his small white teeth in a maniacal smile, "Or," he offers as he lunges and rips her bodice, exposing her breasts, "I could just . . ." his tongue snakes out to taste one erect nipple, soon replaced by a hand as his mouth roughly suckles the other, "_eat_ you, hmmmm?" She moans, shifting their bodies so that she can recline. His hands and mouth keep working as he whispers, "I haven't had the chance to indulge since that rather dreadful nurse a few years ago," he punctuates each word with a flick of his tongue, exciting her with a mixture of carnal sensation and peril, "of course, that particular morsel was not quite a choice cut," nibbling over sensitive peaks while slowly hitching the fine fabric of her skirt, "not the quality that I see before me now," nails digging into the flesh of her thighs, above the lace of stockings as he moves to release the straps of her garters, "it would be a shame to waste such quality . . ." he tastes her fear and exhilaration, and enhances both with a less than gentle bite at the base of her ribcage as he removes her panties.

She surprises him with a shove of her own, pushing him flat on the bench, roughly pulling his prison pants down to his knees to further immobilize him as she removes her skirt and straddles him. "How _dare_ you try to threaten me!" she pants, hair disheveled, dark eyes glaring as she rolls her hips back and forth, teasing them both with not-quite-enough friction, "I didn't have to come here," shudder as she savors the motion.

"But you did come here, Rachel," he grabs her arms and pulls her down, closer, "down to my dungeon, at considerable risk to your health and safety," and winks with a glint of mischief, "not to mention your reputation." He moves his hands down her arms and over her buttocks and hips, caressing her thighs, slowly trailing down to her knees and back up, inch by inch, fingers almost where she needs them most . . . then he removes them altogether and regards her less-than-composed and panting form above him. One of Rachel Duberry's most alluring qualities, as far as Hannibal Lecter was concerned, was the duality of her nature. She was at once refined, well bred, respectable, and even demure when the occasion called for such niceties. Hers was a world of structure, strict propriety and protocol, where decorum was as rigid as Laclos's _Ancien Régime_, and where reputations could be made or sullied beyond repair by mere whispers, even today. Yet, such was her nature that she appears before him now, even as he languishes in prison, shunned from their once shared society. In the confines of intimacy, at least with him, she was a nimble vixen, skilled and capable of the sort of freedom not found within the formal dictates of her daily existence. Perhaps she has always sensed his duality, though unaware of its depths and endless darkness, of course. Perhaps that as much as any other quality is what draws her to him, even now.

"Hannibal," she asks, genuine concern at his momentary departure, "what is it?"

"You know what I've done." Maroon eyes still focused on her, losing none of their intensity.

"I didn't want to believe it."

"That's no answer, Rachel," he chides, "and you know that I despise avoidance of the truth almost as much as I despise a lie. So, once more, you _know_ what I've done?"

"Yes."

"You know what I am."

"I know nothing of that side of you, nor do I care to know. I won't pretend that I understand your actions or motivations. I do not need to understand them for what is between us. Right now is _our_ time, and I want to make the most of it."

In a flash he reverses their positions, and with her help finds his way inside of her. He enters is Memory Palace briefly to retrieve a more appropriate setting, as well as to retain a measure of restraint, being so long deprived, he will not allow his appetite to run riot and spoil the occasion. _At least not yet_. The stench of the gym dissipates, giving way to the crisp air of an Italian spring. The concrete floor transforms to marble, the vinyl bench becomes a settee within the halls of a Tuscan villa. The scene returns with him, as he regards the woman undulating beneath him, smiling. _No alterations necessary_. He savors her, the experience of her, made sweeter by the swell of genuine affection that fills him now. He is not often surprised, and he will cherish this night for all of his days. _So will she_.

He slows his pace, and though she moans low in protest, he is determined to savor the sensations coursing through his body. "We need not rush, my dear," he utters with a more-pronounced rasp, "we still have a long night ahead. And this . . ." he gasps, as she offers her own quick succession of thrusts, "is merely the first course," he smiles and ceases all motion until she acquiesces.

He settles into a steady rhythm of long strokes, and she smiles, remembering another favorite game. "I don't think you'll outlast me, Hannibal," she pants, "you are rather out of practice."

A particularly deep thrust wipes the smile off her face. "I have lost neither skill nor patience, Rachel," she gives another low moan as he continues. _Just a bit more_ . . . He continues his pace, quickening as he sees her brow furrow, eyes losing focus in spite of a valiant effort to maintain the upper hand. "Perhaps you would care to make it the best of three?" She cries out, then, convulsing around him as he captures sight, scent, and sensation in his memory.

The final score, by the end of a very invigorating night, is of little consequence to either party.

* * *

Three knocks in rapid succession signal their 15 minute warning. She places a gentle kiss on his lips, then on his forehead. She will not watch him leave in chains, will not see him in his cage, and so she offers her farewell. He allows her to leave him, pressing her rose between the pages of a treasured tome safe within the great library in a domed Palace room, where it will not wither. _Goodbye, Rachel._

As Barney wheels the doctor through the still dark corridors, he says, "I'm taking you to the isolation room so you can get some decent rest without all of the screaming and hustle, O.K.? As far as everyone knows, you gave me hell last night and I had to shut you in. I'm pissed and I'm leaving you in there all day in restraints. She left you a pretty nice breakfast, and I'll bring some coffee in the afternoon."

"Double shift, Barney?"

"Yeah," he grins, "all part of the plan."

He places the hand truck in the isolation room, unfastens the doctor and places him facedown on the cot, softer with extra blankets. As he backs up five paces, he asks, "You O.K. to get yourself out?"

"Yes, Barney, I still have a bit of energy left."

He chuckles, "O.K., get some rest. I'll go see that Ms. Duberry gets out before the rest of the staff get here."

"I hope she compensated you well for this risky endeavor."

"She did."

"Thank you, Barney. I shall not forget your generosity."

"You're welcome, doctor."

"Please extend my best wishes on her upcoming nuptials," then, as an afterthought, "and ask that she send my regards to Aunt Margerie."

Barney pauses at the door, as the pieces fall into place, and simply states, "Will do," before he exits.

* * *

Pierre Choderlos de Laclos wrote _Les Liaisons dangereuses_ (Dangerous Liaisons)

Thanks again to Jewel for being my sounding board as I developed this subplot (waaaaaaaay better than my original, rather sick and twisted idea). Also, see her fic "First Principles" to find out all about that rare and enchanting patient helper.

Hope y'all enjoyed. Now we'll return to the main plot and see what's in store for Barney.


	19. Chapter 19

Total brainfart!!!!! I forgot to acknowledge Major Bachman in the initial post for helping educate me on the wonders of Vermeer, and for coming up with a plausible reason for his appeal to Barney. So … here's your acknowledgment, my friend! Hartstikke bedankt!

Chapter 19 – Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

The dawn of the new decade brings good luck to the Asylum, in terms of an operating budget. In terms of Dr. Frederick Chilton's personal finances, the 80's are shaping up quite nicely as well. He decides to clean house, and announces the departure of Alonzo Jones, the promotion of Barnaby Jackson to Senior Orderly of the Violent Ward and Chief of Security for the entire institution. The second title comes with a mountain of compliance paperwork and a substantial raise, and Barney is wryly amused at the irony of the situation. His only problem at the moment, fiscally speaking, is how to account for his windfall. He is tempted to get back in touch with the former money men he met with the Panthers, but thinks better of it. He quit that part of his life and won't succumb to the temptation. Right now he has his cash stashed in several secure locations throughout Baltimore, and he has the good sense to keep his high-end purchases out of sight.

His other problem is more serious. Though she is doggedly determined to remain in Baltimore after her residency, Barney insists that Lisa cast a broad net for job opportunities. He knows she belongs in California. Her people are there, the immigrant Chinese population in need of a liaison between their motherland and the New World. Her family and roots are there. The experts in cognitive behavioral therapy are there. With his prior, and his history, it is the one place Barney cannot go. He compartmentalizes the burgeoning ache of possibly losing her and pours himself into his studies. Completion of his bachelor's degree will guarantee more pay, and give him a measure of self-respect, though he understands that it is not the path to fortune for a man such as he is. It matters little, however, as he realizes his thirst will never be quenched. Happily for Barney, he need not worry. The list of courses available and of interest is vast. If he's wise with his finances and alert for more opportunities, he won't need to worry so much about the money. With these thoughts in mind, he approaches the doctor's cell for another chat. The term "lesson", the doctor had said, no longer applied. Though Barney still tapped into the doctor's vast repository of knowledge for context and some enhanced understanding, his studies were now largely self-directed.

Having explained the situation to a somewhat dubious Alonzo Suarez, Barney no longer exercises such discretion with his exchanges with the doctor, though in exchange for his own discretion and help with English lessons, Alonzo asks that Barney manage the doctor. Tonight is no exception, as Alonzo has almost finished meal deliveries.

"Hey, my man! How's it going?" Barney asks, with a big grin.

"Very good, very good. Everyone is fed except the doctor. You will take him his dinner when you talk?" Alonzo offers.

"Sure, no problem. Why don't you take a break, walk home and have some dinner with that pretty lady of yours?" Alonzo was able to save enough to bring his wife to the states, and Barney was enjoying plenty of dinners at their place, a short walk from the Asylum, whenever Lisa was out or busy.

"Thanks boss," he jokes, knowing how much Barney hates the term, "I'll be back to help soon."

Barney takes over the cart and wheels it to the doctor's cell. He had not had the opportunity to speak privately with the man since his late night caller dropped by. When he retrieved the doctor from solitary the following day, Dr. Lecter played his part well by pretending to be annoyed, though his menacing "act" was enough to chill Barney to the bone. Afterwards, Barney marveled at the man's total lack of reaction to what must have been, to Barney's mind, a release of monumental proportion. Judging from said caller's demeanor when Barney assisted her departure, it must have been quite a workout. Now, Barney had to figure out how to broach a related subject without offending the doctor.

"Good evening, Barney. What gelatinous mass am I to enjoy tonight?"

"Looks like chicken, but I couldn't say for sure," he produces some tins of caviar and crackers, emptying the contents of the tins onto the plate and placing the crackers discretely under the cover above the tray before sliding it through, "but these should help."

Dr. Lecter quirks a brow, "I didn't realize there were any leftovers from my recent repast."

"There weren't doctor."

"I see," he waits for elaboration.

"So here's the deal. She wants to make sure you're taken care of, as best I can, while you're here. She will arrange for delivery of some nice food, wine, though don't expect that everyday, you understand? We need to be careful and watch out for Chilton. I don't want to get Suarez involved in this either. Just you, and me, and your friend."

"That would be for the best, I believe."

"You give me lists of things you'd like, in the middle of your book requests, or we can come up with some kind of code or something. Then I'll get them for you and sneak them in when I can. I'll do my best to keep the quality up," he gives a wry smile, letting the doctor know that he noted his distaste as Barney dumped some the caviar on the plate next to the disgusting mass of mystery meat, "but security protocol still applies." Barney shifts uncomfortably and waits for the doctor to pick up on it.

"Naturally, Barney. Now then, what else did Ms. Duberry propose to provide for my comfort?" He grins wickedly, and Barney sighs and decides to be direct.

"Doctor, if you should feel any urges that a female of the professional sort can ease, then she asked me to arrange for another late night call. She'll make sure to get us cover, like before with the fundraiser or some other way to clear the ward."

"You aren't comfortable with that, are you Barney?"

"No."

"Aside from the risk of being caught, why is that?"

"Well, for starters I didn't sign on to be anyone's pimp when I took this job. Second, I agreed to Ms. Duberry because you knew her before and I was pretty sure you would behave like a gentleman and not like, well, you know…"

"A stark raving lunatic who eats _people_," he offers a feral grin, revealing his teeth, "though I'm sure the money she offered you was also a deciding factor."

"For the second, yes the money did help convince me. For the second, you pretty much hit the nail on the head, too. Whores can be pretty rude, at least the ones I've known."

The roar of laughter that escapes the doctor's lithe form at that comment startles Barney more than the menacing smile that preceded it. When he comes back to himself, he comments, "Barney, Barney, you're wit has come quite a long way."

"Thanks, doctor."

"Rest assured, I shall be content with the memories of my last visit for quite some time, and I am most grateful for the opportunities to exercise solitary contemplation," Barney nods in understanding, making a mental note to work out a system by which the doctor can make his requests to go to the holding cell for privacy known, "though I shall also be most pleased to accept the generous dietary supplements. Now, back to you Barney. You are building quite a large nest egg, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps you would like to discuss finance and the international banking system as a part of your lessons? I can recommend many useful resources, including a particularly knowledgeable gentleman who might be able to guide your investments to generate a sustainable yet discrete portfolio."

Barney's eyes widen. _This cat is slick._ "I'm down with that."

"Excellent," he produces a sealed envelope from within his paper stack and places it in the food carrier, "take this letter to the address listed and ask to speak directly with Mr. Sullivan. If you encounter difficulty getting in, leave the letter and your phone number with the receptionist and I'm certain you will be given the first available appointment."

Barney smiles, feeling relief coursing through his massive frame, "Thank you, doctor, for this, for everything…" he finds his feet suddenly very interesting.

"You are most welcome, Barney."

"Ms. Duberry, she's not coming back, is she doctor?"

"No Barney, she isn't."

"It must be tough to let go of a woman like that, a good woman."

"It is the only rational course of action. Now, tell me, are we talking about my situation, or yours?"

He snaps to attention, "What?"

"_Pardon_, Barney."

He stares at the doctor, perplexed.

"_Pardon_ is a more appropriate response than _what_. As for your confusion, I believe I should explain to you the concept of psychological projection, in which threatening feelings are repressed and then attributed to someone else. Loss of a lover and the aftermath apparently resonates with you at the moment. Where is your lady now?"

"She's out of town, interviewing." He puts his guard up, feelings he'd rather not face at the moment leaking through the dam he has erected to contain them.

"I see," the doctor muses, "yes, I suppose her residency is nearing its end. Does she wish to leave Baltimore?"

"She does and she doesn't. I told her she needs to cast a wide net, look everywhere to follow her passion. She's really good, you know?"

"Do you wish her to leave Baltimore?"

"I do and I don't." His eyes implore the doctor to pursue no further.

"I see," he does not push yet, though he is both pleased with Barney's selflessness and troubled by the prospect of a setback. He decides to watch and wait, "should you wish to discuss it, I am available."

"I will, I just don't want to think about it right now."

"I understand. Take care to avoid old temptations and be aware of your anger and other emotions. You will need an appropriate and healthy outlet, and perhaps another perspective? Try this one. Life, Barney, may be viewed as a series of experiences to be savored, each individually and for the sole sake of the experience. Eastern Zen philosophy, as your lady may have told you, holds that through right mindfulness, or meditation, one is aware and fully focused on experience in the present moment as separate from the past, future, or some unrelated stream of thought. The mind's commentary often has little relevance to concrete reality or absolute truth, and such thoughts, being just thoughts, may be released. This frees one to experience without getting caught up in the commentary."

"You mean live for today and don't worry about what's ahead tomorrow?"

"Not exactly. Rather, don't allow thoughts of impeding loss, or and judgments and perceptions based on your internal defenses or other biases, sully the experiences available to you now, in the present."

"I think I get what you're saying, and I promise I won't do anything stupid, doctor. I'll try not to let all this worry get in the way of the time I have with her now. Enjoy your dinner and I'll see if I can find something nice to put on the sound system."

"Thank you, Barney," he watches his pupil leave, and silently wishes him well as he faces the challenges and changes ahead. Almost as an afterthought, he offers, "On the subject of enjoying experience for the sake of experience, you might enjoy adding Vermeer to your list of artists worth exploring."

"Vermeer?"

"Johannes Vermeer, arguably the greatest of the Dutch masters, his genius recognized by only a few in his time," deliberate pause, with a sparkle in his eyes, "he painted for joy, not for profit. As a result, his works are rare. A seemingly ordinary man capable of the extraordinary, I think he might resonate with you."

It would take a few more years before Barney would discover Vermeer, and many more before he recognized the great compliment paid to him by his mentor.


	20. Chapter 20

Epilogue - set after the end of the Novel "Hannibal"

July 5, 2000

He sits in the quiet corner outside of arrivals, jetlagged but elated. He had never made it to San Francisco until now, his time in California restricted to Los Angeles, long ago. Luckily, the pain of those associations has faded, only a dull ache in his gut serving as a reminder. He pushes it aside and ponders. With coffee in one hand and letter in the other, he reads once more.

_Dear Barney,_

_ Over twenty years since our paths first intersected, and I have found an occasion to renew our acquaintance. Fear not, as my plans include nothing more than correspondence, for the moment. You may still the knives in your belly. Really, Barney, what sort of mentor would I be if I did not take an active interest in the course of your life?_

_ First, allow me to thank you for keeping me abreast of Mason Verger's interest in Former Special Agent Starling as the means of ensuring my capture. I trust you received your compensation for this favor, having played your part as my man on the inside exceptionally well. You should be quite a wealthy man now, being the premier source for all of my memorabilia. Perhaps you can even "score" a second interview with _The National Tattler_. Your first was a rather droll piece. Now, tell me truly, Barney, did you finance your most recent vacation with your earnings from me, or with the funds provided by Margot Verger in exchange for your silence and forensic evidence? It is no matter, as I am pleased with your ongoing interest in the arts, culture, and your pursuit of Vermeer. Alas, I do not believe you remained long enough to view Meneer Vermeer's work this last trip. A wise decision, all things considered. To refresh your Latin, some places really ought to remain _terra incognita_. _

_ Speaking of renewed acquaintances, I have enclosed the current address of a mutual acquaintance with whom you might wish to reconnect. From my inquiries (anonymous, I assure you), I do not believe that contact would be unwelcome. Quite the contrary, it would seem. We spoke on many occasions of worthy women. Such creatures are rare indeed, and the man fortunate enough to encounter such a woman would be wise to keep her. Not as a prisoner, of course, as a true gentleman can hold what is his through his attention, affection, and efforts to remain worthy of her company._

_ I wish you well, Barnaby Jackson. I will continue to monitor your progress from a comfortable distance – comfortable for both of us, I should think. Whatever you do, wherever you go, go with confidence and for the sole benefit of your own growth and experience. In the immortal words of T.S. Eliot, "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Hannibal Lecter, M.D._

_P.S. Please feel free to give my regards to your lady. She is rather pragmatic, and will no doubt enjoy the tale of our associations almost as much as she will enjoy days and nights in your company. Should you find it necessary to renew our correspondence with any interesting news, current events, updates, or revelations, you will find a few old channels remain open. I will, of course, extend your best wishes to mine._

He looks up to be greeted by her face, some lines apparent, though she remains radiant. She smiles wide and walks toward him as he folds the letter and places it into his coat pocket, just in time, too. Her embrace is fierce.

"Took you long enough," she offers, smiling up at his grinning mug.

"I know. Some things are worth waiting for, though."

"Want to get out of here and catch up? I know a great place for dim sum."

"Sure, baby girl. Haven't had that in years."

They walk into the cool salt air of the bay, hand in hand, out of the past and toward the realm of possibility, and this is where we leave them.

FIN

* * *

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed reading this story, though I think it would be difficult to match the joy I experienced writing it. Until next time, all the best.

Demeter


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